I sometimes get in a funk on Twitter, too, but Sharon figured out that happens when I haven't been to the hair salon in a few days. It's amazing what a good blow-dry can do to a woman! My confidence gets restored, and the world loves me again. Maybe it's all in my head, though? Anyway.
Getting into a blog funk is harder to get out of. Hearing people talk about finding your 'people' makes me question who my online tribe really is. I'm pretty sure I know who my people are, but sometimes it makes you wonder.
Other times, I have so much I want to say—so much I want to write down—that I don't even know where to begin. I start writing, and walk away. Later, I come back, start a new post, and walk away again. "No one will read this post." Delete. "This post is so silly, and only people who know me in real life will understand." Delete. "This post is going nowhere." Delete.
Then I just give up and watch Gossip Girl and imagine living in the Upper East Side with Blaire and Serena and then I look down and I'm wearing my lulu's and eating Apple Jacks and that depresses me even more so I start watching the news and then... oh, forget it...
Being in a blog funk isn't fun. It happens to all bloggers. I received some good advice on Twitter from Tanis last night, though. JUST WRITE. And so, that's what I choose to do. Someone else suggested "Write a lot of junk and edit it into submission." Which is what I tend to do, too. Especially since her voice has been in my head since BlissDom. She said wait it out. And that's okay, too.
Another reason I get into a blog funk is because I am censored on my blog. I am always thinking of my audience, and who will be reading what I have to say. With that in my mind, I can't write to my heart's content and I can't write about all the issues and thoughts I have, as much as I want to.
Everything I write is one hundred percent authentic and true, though. It's just not all I want to to be writing about. There is so much more I have to say!
Sometimes I get disappointed in the lack of comments. I know it's not about the comments—but you'd be lying if you said you don't love to receive them. Comments on blog posts are better than
Just moments ago, I had a vision. I figured out how to take my blog from here to there—to Dooce level. All I have to do is start vlogging certain parts of my life. And voila. No more blog funk, right?
I'm sure that if I made public how I do certain things, my blog would reach monumental levels of success, and I could quit my day job and move to Florida. And stare at palm trees all day and have a solid year-round tan, one that doesn't cause me panic attacks and a near-death experience.
Here are some examples of the vlog posts I'd share with the world:
1. Me, ironing a shirt. Cue the horror music, because my God, I suck at ironing. I don't do it often, but when I do, clothes end up looking worse than they did when they came out of the dryer. How is it humanly possible to iron a man's shirt and make it look good? It's not. And to see me try is very comical. Especially when I start sweating and cursing under my breath. I guess it would help if I used my ironing board, and not like, a chair. The bonus feature of this video would include watching me fold a fitted sheet.
2. Me, in the kitchen. I am a wonderful, loving mother. I keep a clean house. I cannot cook well. Or bake. I burn myself, I burn the food, my kitchen ends up looking disastrous, and then I call for pizza delivery, defeated. Seeing a video of me take a homemade pizza out of the oven wearing only one oven mitt would probably go viral. Especially the part where I threw the pizza pan and pizza across the room.
3. Me, making carrot cake. I recently baked 2 carrot cakes, but not together because that didn't make sense to me. Rather then double all the ingredients together, I had to make 2 cakes. One at a time. So as not to confuse my fragile mind. You see, measuring = math and Loukia + math + kitchen = FAIL.
4. Me, driving. I could put a video camera in my car and show you how often I crash into concrete posts in parking lots. I'd be a great nominee for Canada's Worst Driver. And I'd provide you with countless hours of entertainment and laughter. The man who fixes my car? He was invited to my wedding. Let's just say we are very close friends.
5. Me, grocery shopping with my boys. The tantrums, the tears, the yelling, and the junk food consumption... and that's just me. My boys? In the grocery store after six p.m.? Gong show, straight up.
So. What do you think? Did I just come up with the million dollar blog idea or what?
No? Back to the drawing board it is...