I’m not really sure what to do with this blog anymore.
If you haven’t noticed, the bulk of my writing over the last few years has essentially been hilarious complaining. Well maybe not hilarious… maybe more like slightly amusing and I’m flattering myself.
A friend told me once that nobody gave a shit about the things I wrote about… only how I wrote them. She said I had a talent for bitching about every day nuisances in such an amusing way that people actually wanted to hear me do it. I looked back through my most popular posts which were all about things like baby vomit, being slightly ill, or how poorly I react to 20 minutes without internet and couldn’t really argue with her.
But recently I’ve become unfortunate enough to have gotten basically everything I’ve ever wanted. Or… you’ve become unfortunate enough for me to have gotten everything I’ve ever wanted.
I’ve always had the best husband in the world but since he landed this fabulous new job I actually see him once in a blue moon (something that rarely happened before while he was working the old job that paid peanuts and trying to finish yet another degree). That job also moved us out of my least favorite environment (fuck the desert) and to my absolute favorite place where we bought my absolute dream house. My kids are healthy, my dogs are assholes but they’re adorable so who cares…
I think about writing here and have nothing to say that I think anyone gives a shit about. Nobody wants to hear “Dear Diary, Today I finished my book, colored with chalk for two hours with my kids, lazily sat in the sun drinking coffee and playing ukulele, and made salmon for dinner. It was a beautiful day.” My life is beautiful and amazing and fun and perfect… but I don’t know how to write those things. I know how to write about my inability to act like a grown up and trips to the ER.
I don’t want to just talk about my kids or homeschooling cause the world has enough of those blogs and honestly I think most of them are boring too. And I have my own story, I don’t want to drowned in my children’s.
I don’t want to be one of those bloggers who just writes responses to shitty things that happen in the world because that sounds depressing.
I don’t think I can write about serious stuff because I can barely take myself seriously, how can I expect other people to.
So what am I left with? I’m left with the perfect life but a blog without stories. And I don’t know what to do with it.