Blog is life

You know how there are those books out there that parallel the game of golf to the "game" of life? Yeah, well, this post is not about that, because I don't play golf. I have attempted golf in the past and because I was nowhere near being good at it, I believe there was an incident involving a ball being repeatedly and violently struck on the putting green and a possible high speed club, tee off grass, collision. On second thought, maybe the game of golf does parallel my life...... disprapotionate responses and a failure to meet my own unrealistic expectations. Sounds about spot on.
Back to the point I'm really trying to make. The creation of this blog as a parallel of my life.
It all begins with the very angst ridden decision to actually begin a blog in the first place. You should know that angst will probably come up a lot in the future, so if you are at all into making hash marks when, for example, on any given Sunday you key in on a phrase that your pastor keeps repeating in a message or you are one of my libation/reality television friendly readers who takes a sip every time you hear the word "connection" on The Bachelor, you should totally do it with the word angst in my posts.
To be fair, I didn't have to wrestle too much with the decision to begin a blog, it was more about the period of time between deciding and actually getting the first post in indelible pixilation on the internet.  Imagine the length of the NBA playoff schedule and you'll have it about right.

The first step was determining content.  I've seen a lot of different blogs out there and I was thinking I might need to have it focused on a central topic, for example, stories from teaching elementary school (like the time I was accused of teaching 2nd graders drinking games) or my kids (like all the times I locked myself in the closet) or theology (like the time an old church friend couldn't wear certain feminine products because her mom thought it would feel too much like sex).  But in the end I couldn't limit myself to one topic.  I've heard several people suggest writing about what you know (beginning, of course, with Gilbert Blythe advising Anne to forgo her high-falutin' mumbo jumbo and write about Avonlea) and to write about what you are passionate about.  So naturally this blog will be about laundry.

Thanks, in large part, to a friend who reads a lot more non-fiction than myself and recommended Sloane Crosley, I was exposed to, what I feel, might just be my writing niche - sarcastic/humorous essays.  As much as I would love to exude a more deep, contemplative and intellectual veneer,  I will try to stick to the former.  I can't promise anything, though, since I've developed adult onset A.D.D..

Well, the next consideration was the name of the blog.  Oh my gosh. Who would have thought that would have been such an ordeal.  My first idea, which was invented rather expeditiously, was "Spilled Milk - and other things I cry about," but that name, (the spilled milk part) apparently,  has been used like a zippo in an episode of Mad Men. Okaaaaaay.  I had another great one, "I'm Not Even Kidding."  That was taken.  "The Cliffs of Insanity."  Also taken. "China in a Bull Shop." Again, snatched.   Another one I can't remember, but it was taken as well.  The very, very annoying part about this selection process, aside from having the idea that I possess no original thoughts reinforced repeatedly, was that those blogs haven't been touched for years. I'm talking early 00's and nary a post since then.  Bastard people.  Slacker bloggers who had such lofty goals of processing and sharing their life's adventures on the internet for all to see, only to stop after the third post.  Or, worse yet, people who make up names and create them so they can sell the name?  I don't know?  Why else would you do that, orseay?  Discouraged, but not down for the count, I googled a bunch of websites containing idoms and adages hoping to twist one of them around, spice it up.  Eventually, the final name came about while reading "The Help," this summer.  I was lounging in our living room reading, a rare occurrence, I assure you, and either Minny or Aibileen uttered the phrase "talking behind her own back." So, thank you, Katheryn Stockett, for helping me come up with the name and also perpetuating the self-esteem crushing notion that there are no original ideas.

That settled, at long last, we move onto the design phase.  This is where we really see my hyper-perfectionism rear its ugly head.  I want it it be unique.  I want to create my very own background with photo shop, where I select the specific shade of retro, avocado green to be the color of the text of the comments and where I peruse circuitously, the catalog of fonts.  Will this font suggest that I am bookish or the more happy-go-lucky/creative/REI shopper type?  This is the problem with choices.  It allows you to customize to suit your own tastes and preferences, but it the cause for a lot of wasted time, at least on my part, when designing a blog or choosing a type of yogurt or of toothpaste.  Do we really need 1.25% Greek, fruit on the bottom, granola topper yogurt?  Do we need whitening, gum disease preventing, chlamydia fighting toothpaste?  After intense and a totally, totally unnecessary amount of manipulating of all possibilities of layouts, fonts, backgrounds, text colors, transparency levels and settings, I finally tell myself to back away.  Like a would be criminal about to pull the trigger, lost in a moment of passion and thankfully is able to grasp reality long enough to refrain from the incriminating act, I talk myself down from the wall, pick a pre-made background and the first font I liked and move along.

Why do I feel I must have everything perfect?  That is the question.  Well, that and what shoes should I wear.  Please join me as I search for the answers to these and other life altering questions.  Up next, How did my son come to name himself "Captain Squished Penis?"  I'm not even kidding.
Special thanks to Trader Joe's Petite Sirah and the approximately 12 interruptions from my children that made this post have its hazy, choppy feel.