When I started this blog I was hoping to write anonymously. Mostly so I could write about funny and ridiculous things people around me did or said without them knowing I was using them as blog fodder. I also figured I could be honest about the bits about me I don’t always love, without totally admitting to the world that at times I can be like that (rude, obnoxious, bitching, downright mean, judgemental – you know, that kind of stuff).
But to get people to follow it first I sent it to my friends for a practice run, and they became my first followers. And bless them. One said my name in her first comment. And then someone mentioned my town not long after that! And since then, even though I’ve tried to not mention my girls names, or my guy or my town or anything, I think people actually know that I am ‘the writer’ of this blog. And now, by default they know my kids, my guy and the insides out of my brain/heart/soul (well not quite everything because I actually have considered at times what I post because it’s not anonymous and some people in smallish towns are very interested in what I have to say that could be construed further. Especially Those Things I may or may not have said about about my ex-husband. Not that I want to give any of the smallish town gossips gossipy fodder, but I have been amused about the way in which what I write has been interpreted and passed on (to him, completely out of context)).
So to provide a context (to myself at least, and to those people in the world who understand why context is important when it comes to words) I should explain why I write about things and people close to home:
1. The lessons of life are all part of my life, it would be crazy if I made it up to make a good story (although sometimes it’s such a great story I wish I was making it up!!)
2. The people in my life are awesome, funny, lovely and that’s why they’re in it. Those who aren’t in it so much or anymore are not featuring in it for a reason and that’s OK with me. Sometimes though, those people (the ones not featuring) are part of the message or the learning or the thing I needed to understand about myself. So sometimes they’re written about (like a feature article). Sometimes I could be meaner, sometimes I could be kinder, but that’s not really the point, the message is the point.
3. Home is where the ingredients live. Me, him, them, us.
4. Writing is about sharing with the world something that is bigger than myself, and until I started writing like this most days I tossed the stories I could write around in my head or had arguments with myself or other people inside me, rather than finding a way to get to the bottom of whatever I was battling with.
5. In a smallish town there’s all the same stuff going down as in a big town, just that sometimes people know whom or what I’m talking about. But the people reading it who haven’t come to this by the default of being my friend or actually knowing who I am in person, they don’t know that. So maybe it’s easier for them to get the point? Because they’re not so interested in the content, but perhaps in the message. And in life if we were all more interested in understanding the message rather than focussing on the story and all the components it’s made up of, maybe we’d all be more peaceful with where we are.
6. I believe I can have strong opinions and beliefs about things I know about, and not about things I don’t know about. When I bang on in an opinionated way about things I don’t really know about I feel lame and fake and then everyone knows it. I believe in lots of things, I might even get a chance to tell you all about them one day, when I’m not trying to justify to myself that it OK to write about what I want to write about at the time.
And that’s about it for yesterday, it’s now today and I’m going to write abut something else.
I had to stop writing to support our au pair and my biggest girl through a horror movie about demons. Something I do not know much about and honestly wouldn’t mind being a complete ignoramus in regards to for the rest if my life. They both cried, hid under the covers and were scared to go to bed. I I was OK and not scared (I don’t believe our house is haunted in any way by demons), but humoured that they both at various times in the last month begged me to watch the movie with them, and then hated it. I realise I was the safety net. I’m hoping next time they will take my recommendation and watch a Romcom or something deep and meaningful like Smurfs 2 (“it doesn’t matter where you come from, it matters who you choose to be”). The people at the DVD shop know us almost personally, as does the lady who is in charge of the office at the entry to the rubbish tip. That’s why smallish towns are cool.
I love my smallish town. It starts with G just like my guy 🙂