Blog dork

In case anyone is wondering, I am doing this blog thing for a few reasons. Number one, because it makes my ramblings seem more important if I can imagine that there might someday be an audience for them. I even imagine my kids or future unborn grandchildren stumbling across this someday in cyberspace. The problem with that is that I need to watch what I write. Don’t want the kids to know everything, after all, even if they are adults when they read this.

Another is to practice writing for my in-progress thinly veiled autobiographical novel. I know, you can’t wait to read about my awkward middle school years and my flag-twirling period in high school, but you’re just going to have to be patient. Getting the ideas out of my head and onto a screen is a bit like giving birth – not as physically taxing, obviously, but accompanied by a little bit of the feeling I had during my 24-plus hours of labor with my first child. Lots and lots of teeth grinding with nothing much worthwhile to show for it, just another centimeter dilated after three hours of hard labor. Hopefully, the more I work on this, the easier it will become, just like it is easier to pop out the sixth baby than the first one. (Or so I’ve heard. I have no intention of finding out firsthand.) I was thinking that if I am writing for an audience, even an imaginary one since I may never tell anybody my blog address, I might be more motivated to write more and write better.

The biggest reason, though, is that it makes me happy. Oddly and inexplicably happy. I drive my kids to school or wait in the checkout line at the grocery store and instead of being annoyed with traffic or slow cashiers I think about what to write next.

But, besides all of those reasons, the initial shot in the arm for my first entry really did come from the election of Barack Obama (hooray – still a thrill). I was just rereading that entry and it seems to be hopelessly schmaltzy and sentimental. And, to my post-modern self-reflexive horror, I wrote in unabashed, heartfelt adulatory tones about Oprah. This is particularly embarrassing to me at the moment because I decided yesterday that I should do some reconnaissance into this so-called blogosphere into which I am dipping my toes. There are huge numbers of women bloggers out there, writing about home and kids, who have funny and interesting things to say. One of them in particular, whose entry about buying a minivan made me laugh out loud, wrote in her profile the following:

“...That is right about when I realized I had become a boring suburban housewife. Secret shame? My first post was about my life changing epiphany during an Oprah show. That day’s show was: How not to be a lame-assed housewife watching Oprah.”1

OK, I don’t spend a lot of time watching Oprah. None, really, in a typical week. Maybe if I am stuck at home because of three feet of snow or a flu outbreak. I really do admire her, though. And I am still unapologetically psyched about Obama, so I forgive myself for my earnestness in that entry. I’m just embarrassed to be a blogging mama cliché, writing about Oprah in my very first entry ever. My inclination is to go back, delete it from the blog, print it out, and put the letter in a box for my kids to read when they are old enough to understand it but not old enough to be embarrassed by it. At the very least, I’d like to revise it to make it a little less dorky. But, I’m going to swallow my pride and let it stand. I did, in fact, write what I wanted my kids to know about, and, ultimately, I’m more of a serious, earnest, dorky person than an funny, ironic, cool person. But that’s mostly OK with me, even if it’s a little embarrassing sometimes.

1. I’m nothing if not a rule follower. This is my footnote for the quote that shamed me. I’m not sure of the proper way to cite a blog, but I’ll adapt the classic MLA format: Anne Nahn, “About,”[ http://annenahm.com/?page_id=2], September 2008.