Some days I blog struggle. As in, I don’t know what to post on here. This is not including the days I life struggle. Did I just make that up? Nevermind, just roll with it.
It doesn’t matter that I always have about 40 drafts tucked away waiting for a rainy day. Sometimes your drafts don’t match your mood. (Kudos to those of you who have editorial calendars. My brain isn’t sophisticated or disciplined enough for that). And when the last post published on here was two days ago, I start feeling like my blog is looking like the neglected red-headed child and some emergency TLC in the form of chicken soup and Disney movies is called for. And times like these when I still don’t know what to write, I tell myself, “Self, just go write.”
So, given the fact that I didn’t plan anything spectacular for today, this is all you’re gonna get. A confessional type of post with anecdotes.
The older I get the more of a homebody I become. And it scares me.
The thought of staying out past 11pm seriously brings a sudden onslaught of a) cramps, b) nausea, or c) a headache. I’m not a young chicken anymore. This is both good and bad. No wonder the only people at bars before 11pm were “old” when I went out in college. Who in their right mind would want to stay out till closing time at a bar? Seriously?
Teachers sometimes give up.
You know how you sometimes hated going to school? Well, let me let you in on a little secret: sometimes teachers hate going to school, too.
I taught music at an inner-city high school. My school had a crazy block schedule and my dreams of having multiple chorus classes were shattered. My classes didn’t care to learn about Mozart (shocker) or anything that wasn’t Motown or rap or R&B. Inevitably, the days where I had spectacular and engaging lesson plans that required group activities, the lesson was spoiled because not enough students were there.
So when there were field trips, or other events where 50% or more of my class was gone, I played a movie. But really, as a music teacher, the world was my oyster because just about every movie has music. So if an administrator popped in and asked if this was “educational” I shamelessly nodded yes (see also: lied through my teeth hoping they wouldn’t call my bluff and ask to see my nonexistent lesson plan). Worst teacher ever? More like exasperated.
Blogging can make you feel like a failure.
I’m just kidding. Ish.
I always want to be prepared and have well-put together blog posts, like my phone numbers one, tax tips for bloggers, breaking up with friends, or posts where I talk about if BlogHer is actually worth it. (It is, by the way). But then you have posts like this one that become fodder for hate sites.
Sometimes you hit them out of the park. Other times they blow up in your face.
I am progressively becoming a worse driver.
I confess that for the life of me I cannot figure out the four way stop.
Right of way…does that mean the person to my right has the right of way? Don’t count on me to go first. I’ll just wait until I’m the last person in the intersection pissing everyone else off in the process.
You know what drives me up a wall? When the person who I think has the right of way motioning for me to go before them. Then we do this awkward exchange of “No you go first” at the intersection, and inevitably both of us try to go at the same time. This just confuses me further. Stop. Just, stop.
I am deathly afraid of hydroplaning.
Raining? You’ll find me driving like an idiot, avoiding the slickest portions of the road. Unfortunately that means the worn-in paths on the asphalt aka where you’re supposed to drive. Even if that means straddling the lane lines or driving right on the double yellow line. Puddle? Don’t even count on me driving through it. Don’t judge me. I’ve hydroplaned so many times in all sorts of cars that my life has been in real honest-to-God danger.
I am deathly afraid of curves at high speeds.
It only takes one bad car to instill the irrational fear that you’ll tip over and fall into bodies of water or tumble down ravines. For me, it was that old Suzuki Vitara. Its center of gravity was higher off the ground, and any turn made while driving faster than 25mph made the car feel like it was toppling over.
I’m starting to accept that I’ll never have a Hollywood figure
I’d love to have Michelle Obama’s arms. I’d love to have Jen Selter’s booty. I’d love to have Jillian Michael’s abs. But the reality is that I’m just too freaking lazy. I want to take a magic pill and make it happen. (Seriously, I’ll buy stocks in that miracle product if it’s ever made).
I’m still young enough to achieve one. I don’t have kids and I know I really shouldn’t have an excuse. I know that I’ll hate myself one day when I have kids and wonder why I wasted all the free time I used to have. But for right now, designing blogs and writing from time to time on my blog is where I’m at.
And I’m okay with that….
…and I think this is a good place to stop because otherwise you’ll get a rambling novel of nonsense from me.