WordPress: Have Mercy

WordPress: Have Mercy

I have a confession to make.

I think blogging is stupid.

Don’t get me wrong; I love-love my blog-folk with mad-crazy ferocity. I really do.
The people with whom I’ve developed a virtual comradery are as much a “real” part of my day-to-day life as the poopy diapers I change and the seventy-three bags of garbage I take outside after dinner and the eighteen loads of laundry I wash, dry, and fold in a twenty-four hour period.

Maybe that’s why these otherwise perfect strangers have come to mean so much to me: they are my daily honeymoon from the real-world monotonies of being a stay-home mother of five boys.

Blogging is a vacation, during which I travel to distant lands and relax in the novelty of some unexpected idea for half an hour or so, being romanced by the experience of thoughts exchanged. Every few hours I get to take a mental hiatus from the twins fistfighting; the pre-teen disappearing; the three-year old teaching the infant how to dump the contents of the refrigerator into the toilet until the water turns into a condiment-colored waterfall and makes rainbows on the hall carpet; the neighbors stopping by to visit and catch up on the latest catastrophe; the casserole burning in the oven while the phone continues to shriek incessantly, the ringtone ruining my love of that favorite song and reminding me that my husband is nowhere near as busy as I am while the satellite repairman asks for the fifth time where he can access the attic; the pre-teen reappearing followed by a riotous outbreak of adolescent screaming over the pre-teen refusing to join in their wrestlemania…

This isn’t an exaggeration. It’s a fairly accurate glimpse into the life I lead, on days that don’t involve trips to the hospital or broken furniture or nervous breakdowns, of course.

But “blogging”? The word sounds archaic and desperate. Like a nerd, trying too hard to get invited to the “cool kid’s” party on Friday night. Like something all the mid-lifers do to substitute the less intellectual-seeming habit of facebook trolling. As a practice, I (still) have yet to call myself a “blogger.”

It isn’t the blogging that has us hooked like suburban cyber-junkies. It’s really not “blogging” at all. It’s writing, publicly. It’s thinking, publicly. It’s daring to throw yourself onstage — and discovering there’s a REAL, LIVE audience waiting to hear what you have to say. Most of all, it is the magic and wonder of words. Words on fire. Words in motion. Words with kinetic power to transform your day into a more vibrant shade; a more thoughtful frame of mind; a more aware and centered vibe with which you can return to everyday living. It’s a break from reality — for ten or fifteen or forty-five minutes; on your laptop, on your smart phone, in your car or locked in your bedroom while the children get a crash course in survival 101.

It’s a community of people who are interested, and interesting. You don’t have to sort through news feeds of who-had-what for lunch and where that one guy takes his hamster for emergency veterinarian care, or who’s child is ten times cuter than yours (for the fifteenth time today).

I still don’t know all the rules. Can I change the word? That would really help. I say we call it YES!-ing. Or dackta-ballooping. Or some similarly ridiculous term that seemingly comes from nowhere and sounds much like an underwater sea-lion doing some underwater thing. You know. Whatever.

I respond too sporadically to my fellow bloggers, too seldom at times, and yet with too long of a response when I do. Yes, I’m the person who hijacks your threads. I thought it would be a compliment! My way of expressing how much your thoughts inspired my thoughts. . . (Boggles my mind. Hey! Let’s call it “boggling”!!)

I have no idea what a widget is, or how to pingback (wait, is that a verb or a noun?); I probably don’t follow as many “boggles” as I should but I’m ADD, and frankly I’m doing well to manage the few I’ve followed without one of my children seriously injuring themselves, or worse. (I mean, not really. But sort of.)

I can’t figure out all the ‘ins’ and ‘outs’ of “blogosphere” ‘etiquette’. I’ve irritated quite a few people, gained and misplaced a handful of followers, and yet somehow I manage to continue making progress.

Just do me a favor WordPress: have some mercy on me. I’m a frazzled, couped-up stir-crazy mom who also happens to be a writer. I’m not here for notoriety or accolades, and I’m likely to mess up the all these manners I know I should have learned by now; but I promise, I’m learning and growing.

I love this place, in all its diversity. I love the brilliant minds, shining like diamonds, illuminating their own perfect wonder into my days.

I cherish what all of you have to say. And for what it’s worth: I’m listening. πŸ™‚


About Brandy Desiree

"Call on me, and I will show you great and unsearchable things you do not know." --Jeremiah 33:3 I am a seeker. A lover. A doer. A thinker. I make music, I dance often, and I laugh. It's all hilarious, really. Everything. Look around you. My children teach me a lot about life. I have five boys, and yes I'm out of my mind. It works for me though; I think this world could honestly use just a little more crazy. A lot of humanity's problems could be solved by everybody taking themselves a little less seriously. I'm grateful and alive; a constantly evolving creature, thankful for the sunshine and just as thankful for the rain... Visit my corner of the universe and share yourself! My heart could implode with welcome for you.

22 responses »

  1. I especially like your final quote. And the whole rest of it. Granted, I read it all thoroughly as a means of procrastination (last semester at school, exam time, assignment due next week, blah) though, whenever I read one of your posts I’m usually unable to just skim through. Keep farting your most inner thoughts on the page, tis a joy to read. Oh, and also, I get ya. I started this blogging stuff merely to gauge whether people had any interest in what I had to say and to help me sell books – get something published; superficial and vague, I know, I know. Now though, cyber junky I is. I’m not sure which alternate perspective is more respectable; to build an audience or to feed the cyber veins of addiction. Luckily, I couldn’t care in the slightest. Thanks!

  2. Ahh, blogging is gloriously stupid, I agree. And yet, most of us are probably more listened to here than anywhere else in our lives! I was joking yesterday that soon – when I meet people in real life – I’d direct them first to my blog and then see if they still want to know me!

    Don’t worry about what you have and haven’t done. That’s life. I’m impressed you’re here at all (given your workload). πŸ™‚

    • Can we please make it a point to spend some time together — face-to-face, or spirit-to-spirit — the next go-round after this world fades away? I’d likely pee my pants, (or explode into billions of tiny microcosms since I doubt we pee in heaven) if given the opportunity to just sit back and kick it in your company. πŸ™‚

  3. I completely agree. On a bad day I feel like I’m wasting my time here, indulging myself, spinning wheels. But most of the time, I feel connected. If I didn’t blog, I wouldn’t have any external proof of my inner life and I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to about writing. (I only have 2 kids but they still take up all the air, space, and brain. Unless I’m writing and posting here, they’re all I have to talk to.)

    • Precisely! This blog-circus is the only reprieve I’ve got from my much less enjoyable home-circus, and while I cherish my litter of mini-me’s (I know that’s not conducive to an apostrophe but whatever), I’d likely lose my mind without this space to vent my insanities.

      I love and adore every single one of the connections I have with all of you. Truly.

      I just lose the ability to be who I am freely when I’m inundated with mindless rules and expectations. I’m trying to evolve, to fit the standard out if courtesy, but in reality my brain can only handle so much etiquette BS. I will write a novella as a comment if I’m inspired to. Anyone who takes offense probably doesn’t understand what an honor it is in my reality. One of my kids could have died in the time it took to write it. πŸ˜‰ Just kidding. Sort of. πŸ™‚

  4. Wow, now, why wasn’t this freshly pressed? Man, I feel like so many people would relate. It amazes me how well you can express yourself. I imagined you writing this with the door shut, and boy versions of me and my siblings pounding on the door screaming for this or that or who hit who..just typing away in a zen-like peace until you are finished, and then attending to their needs. I also imagined other things based on what you were writing..I am more and more amazed by you every time I read the pieces where you are so honest and open and clear.
    I also love all the words for blogging. I don’t like the word and until last year, I didn’t even really understand what it meant. We are writing publicly. I like that.

    • God I love you. We just GET each other, you know? It’s a perfect ‘clicking’, every time we think about each others’ thoughts. Powerful.

      Thank you for the feedback. It helps to know which direction to take, when my aim is less about venting my diary on here and more about reaching my audience. I appreciate it.

      Why this is not freshly pressed: incorrect prepositional use, lack of organizational structure, a few grammatical faus pas, all-caps where italics should’ve been used (but I blog from my phone and italics isn’t an option), as well as two uses of passive voice.

      I see them all clearly, you know. And frankly, it is semi-intentional. I’ve stumbled upon so many frustrated rants about not being freshly pressed, but personally I fail to see all the hooplah about it. The last thing I need is a billion new people to piss off by my lack of blogging know-how.

      But hey, I revel in you perfect (few) regulars… I’d hate to give you the short end if the stick in attempt to appease more people. I quite like the smaller, more intimate crowd. πŸ˜‰

    • I appreciate the feedback!

      I just can’t reconcile the internal dichotomy I find between the notion of “blogging” and the yearning I had (when I initially created this ‘blog’) of putting my writing on a public platform — and not for publicity, but for the mere act of engaging the writing world somehow.

      It’ll fall into place. Just a strange pergatory I have in the meantime.

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