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I’m blogging about blogging and there’s so many others out there doing the same.

Blogging is a completely acceptable way of begging people to notice you and then tell you how witty and talented you are.  At least that’s what I’m learning. You get addicted to your site stats- when your readership goes up, when new people subscribe, when someone comments- OH that’s the best! It’s like my very own Christmas in my inbox!

I appreciate everyone that reads my blog. I really appreciate the one or two that tell me in person how much they enjoy it. I really, really appreciate it. Because I’m a Leo and Leos need compliments. All the time. James is still learning this.

It’s strange that there’s more people that I don’t know who are reading what is going on in my life.

But newsflash- there’s millions of blogs out there. Like stars. Too many to be numbered. On Word Press alone- there’s about 300,000 blog entries a day. So anyone that stumbles upon my blog and takes the time to read it, literally feels like someone finding me in a haystack and I’m the needle. The blogosphere is a very supportive community that understands how good it feels to be recognized. And let’s face it- there’s some dull blogs out there, preachy blogs out there and weird blogs out there. I won’t read about prophecies, hemorrhoid cream or ‘how to make this year the most successful yet’.

Blogging is even more liberating than Facebook. Facebook is a polite venue of conversation. Blogging is personal, (sometimes too personal) it can be rants, mushy sentimentality, ridiculous pictures of cats… I think what’s really weird about it is, I hated writing when I was growing up. I didn’t do very well on my essays in high school. The Beowulf midterm was a little sketchy. And I remember the Macbeth paper I was supposed to write in AP English. I don’t think I ever turned it in. Seriously. I had this aversion to writing. An English teacher in high school told me my writing was awful. Really. That’s what he said. He was proofing my essay on Shakespeare’s Julius Ceasar. And as he stroked his red pen all over the page, he shakes his head and says, ‘Gee, Rebecca, your writing is awful.’  He should’ve been fired. Well, okay, not fired. But I should’ve gotten all Glee on him and told him he isn’t supposed to wreck my self esteem like that. He needs to be more constructive in his criticism and not crush me.

I was an executive assistant for a start up company in my early twenties. The VP asked me to write an article for some environmental city official for some project we were working on. I froze. Don’t ask me to write! I can answer phones, do excel, expense reports, Microsoft Project, make coffee, whatever… just don’t make me write. In my own words.

I did. And I lived through it.

I was a theater major for crying out loud! I focused on acting. I never understood people who wanted to turn in screen plays or manuscripts. I liked to be told what to do. I was the puppet, the clay to be molded. I liked directors to tell me what to do.

I don’t know what changed. Facebook maybe? I am a constant proofer. I can’t stand errors and grammatical misuses. I like making up my own words though. Like ‘glowy’ and ‘thingy’ and anything else I can just add a ‘y’ to.

Blogging is like that annual Christmas letter you put with your Christmas photo each year and send to the relatives. Mostly the ones that aren’t on Facebook since everyone else knows what’s going on in your life. With a blog, each entry is like my annual Christmas letter. I get to brag, whine, gloat, preach, rant, rave whatever… Not that I would DO that in a Christmas letter. Maybe the brag part. Or the preach part.

I get to pretend I work for a fashion or beauty magazine and I’m the editor. I’m going to grace you with all this useful information! Suckers!!

I’m just muddling through really. And thanks for muddling along with me.

This was a boring ass post. My apologies. Here for fun- I will add a silly picture from the internet.