Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?

Tripping down memory lane here ... finding that for most of the people I followed, blogging seems to have taken a back seat to Facebook. Quick, easy, mobile ... sound bites instead of a four course dinner. I must have 8 or 9 blogs that I'm no longer maintaining. Wondering what, if anything, to do about them.

My, How Time Flies

I have a friend who I hadn't heard much from over the past few months. Turns out he's been going through some personal relationship challenges. I don't have the full story yet, but I can't say I'm surprised. I never felt comfortable about this relationship, and I can't say I told you so because I didn't - but I thought it.

In any event, this is a friend who was a much bigger part of my life three years ago. I can't believe three years have gone by. I've been blogging for three and a half years, and I have at least 3 1/2 blogs out there, and none of them is a true reflection of me. I'm okay with that. The world wide web is a scary place and I'm glad that I haven't put everything out there.

I've been saying for at least two years that I need to brush up on my web/computer skills, so today, for the first time in a long time, I visited one of my links, ProBlogger Blog Tips. When I first started blogging, it seemed that I was able to attract readers fairly easily. I very quickly assembled my little virtual community, and it was good. Lately, though, I've noticed that I don't seem to attract any new readers.

One reason is that my blog isn't devoted to any one particular topic. Another reason is that, well, I'm just not that into blogging anymore. Anyway, one of the reader tips from ProBlogger was to link to newer blogs and blog posts. I guess that would be one way to attract more traffic. Or I could just be satisfied with the referrals I get when people do a search on the Duggar family which just spawned child #17. Or the Google images referrals of that muscle-bound Match.com guy. Or the people looking for information about Matt Kaplan.

Why did you stop by?

Who Knew?

That lost post? Not lost. Just not visible to me. Turns out I needed to clear my cache. I hadn't cleared my cache in like ... ever.

Seven and a half hours of yard work today. More to be done but it's going to have to wait. If I'm lucky, tonight I'll do some laundry and pick up around the house. Tomorrow I go with The Man to check out an assisted living facility for his father. LOTS more behind that but I won't get into it here.

When I get back tomorrow night I drop off Trucklet so she can get fixed. It will be good to have that behind me. Of course, her annual check-up (inspection) is due in July, so I'll have to take her in again before the end of the month.

Just saw that they found Jesse Davis' body and that boyfriend Bobby Cutts has been charged. Who didn't see that one coming?

Things You Can't Do By Yourself

1. Apply sunscreen to your back.
2. Apply aloe vera lotion to your back after aforementioned lack of sunscreen scorches your skin.

Sue - I'm not purposely ignoring the meme; I do plan on getting around to it one of these days.

Learning how to say "no."

Last night I had a meltdown in the middle of Barnes and Noble's cafe. It had been eleven months in the making.

Eleven months ago, I let my self be coaxed, cajoled and pressured into working on a collaborative project with my neighbor Celia. A person I thought was turning into a friend at long last.

Years ago when we first moved here, my first impression of Celia was that she was a condescending know-it-all. I stood firm in that belief for a good 4-5 years. But then she invited me over for pool parties and coffee and she seemed sort of fun and I thought, "At long last, a friend!" My loneliness and need for adult relationships overshadowed my initial instincts when it came to Celia.

Celia discovered that not only could I write, I wrote very well. She latched onto me, like a parasite onto its host, deciding I could be most useful to her. She pressured me into writing a children's book with her even though the tiny voice in my head (the voice I refused to listen to!) screamed, "I'm not interested in writing children's books now! I don't want to write with a partner! I don't really like Celia all that much!"

For the next eleven months, denial and excuses became my modus operandi. As work progressed on the book, the sheer accumulation of words necessitated that I stick with it, despite that tiny, ineffectual voice inside me fighting to be heard as she tried to tell me, "This writing sucks!"

Celia wanted my writing abilities but as we work, she rejects my ideas and suggestions. She sits at the helm, in control, typing her words. My purpose? Was to inspire and motivate her, apparently. Celia's writing style is to take an ordinary object or action and describe it to death. A flashlight hidden on a ledge in a cave becomes an intricately described grooved metal cylinder. And to what end? Purely to pad word count and reach "The End" faster. Celia operates under the delusion that writing makes money and the faster you do it, the faster you get those royalty checks.

I've been writing for publication since 2000 and I'll tell you right now I've made a grand total of about $90 for my writing.

There's so much more I could say about Celia. Anyone who read my blog regularly knows what a struggle I've been through and you're probably nodding your head vigorously now as I admit I was in denial that there was a problem. And you're probably shouting, "YES, FINALLY, SHE GETS IT!" when I say that Celia is an obnoxious pushy bully that I should never have gotten so deeply involved with.

So this meltdown had been building. Recent events leading up to it: I asked Celia for a current copy of our book so I could look it over, begin editing it on my own to try to make it interesting and possibly salable. But I looked at that first page and Celia had listed her name first even though alphabetically mine should naturally come first. Right there - those simple three lines of text symbolized my struggle. When she had first set down those lines and I asked her why her name was first (I can't even remember her reason), that should have been when I bowed out.

But I figured if the thing was ever published, an editor would fix that right up. So I continued editing and as I looked over that first page, I felt ill. My voice wasn't there at all. It was written completely in Celia's dull, klunky, over-detailed style. It was pure crap.

Eleven months and 112 pages of pure crap.

And every Tuesday and Friday morning I'm supposed to head to her house, my mind races for ways out.

So last night, in my writers' group, with my two closest critique partners, I had a meltdown which they watched unfold without surprise. They knew it was coming. And they told me only this:

Celia's got to go.

I spent hours with them trying to teach me how to say "no." And then I came home and spent another few hours with my husband teaching me how to say "no."

No. No more. I'm done. I'm out. No. No. No. NO!

There's nothing wrong with telling people no. If you don't want to do it, if your instincts are saying one thing, don't say another. Just say no. My husband said the only person who can say "no" to look out for you is YOU.

Every Which Way But Loose

Just did some catching up on my bloglines. I don't think it shows in my blogroll, but once upon a time I subscribed to ProBlogger. I had high hopes that I might become the next Fish or Washingtonienne or Tequila Mockingbird (interestingly enough, when I went to find her blog I discovered that she had just posted today for the first time in over a year!) or something like that.

So far - not.

I haven't found my niche. I'm not linking enough. I'm not commenting enough. I'm not populating my posts with links. I'm just too scattered. I keep saying I want to focus on this, but then I come home at the end of the day and the last thing I want to do is sit in front of the computer. Ah, blogging On Company Time ... those were the days!

These days I'm too busy to blog. Pilates on Monday. Yoga on Tuesday. Pilates again on Wednesday (except for those nights when it conflicts with my women's group meetings). Dinner with The Man on Thursday, followed by Survivor with Mary. Friday? Happy Hour. Last week it was $4 cosmos with Phil; this week it's $7 cosmos with Denise. Saturday it's run around, pick up the house and then go over to spend the night with The Man. On Sunday, crock pot dinners and then back home to start all over again.

And what's new with you?

And Another Thing ...

I knew I didn't want to upgrade to new Blogger.

And I definitely don't want to be one of the first to suffer with Vista, but if I buy a new computer now that sucker is bound to be loaded with it.

Anyway ... I totally hate that Blogger is connected and tied in to my Google account. Now, in order to post here, I have to log out of my real gmail account and then log in to my Kenna Fearing account. Just a royal pain in the ass.