It's not easy being meme.

Okay, I’ve owed Julie this for, like, ever. She memed me waaaaaay back in May, and I didn’t even call her the next day to thank her for the nice evening and maybe we could go out for drinks again sometime. I’m an awful, thoughtless date is what I am.

I mean, I'm an awful, thoughtless memer.

Memee?

Anyway, since I’m not feeling particularly inspired, but because I’d like to get something up here at least once a month during this difficult time when my 13-month-old is bent on running out the front door or tossing himself down stairs every five minutes -

I don’t need a nanny or Mother’s Helper so much as I need a small sheep dog -

since I don’t have much time to get all creative right from a blank slate like, I thought that now would be as good a time as any to grab Julie’s writing prompt and go all gung-ho and see what happens.

So here are the question(s) from the original blog

Your mission: Give one or more these questions a stab in a post (or series of posts), and then tag three more writers. If you don't mind, please link back to this original entry—we'd LOVE to track the progress of this meme with trackbacks.

1. Go back to first or early post. How would you describe your voice back in those early days? Who were you writing to? What was your sense of audience (if any) back then?

2. Do you remember when you received your first comment? What was it like?

3. Can you point to a stage where you began to feel that your blog might be part of a conversation? Where you might be part of a larger community of interacting writers?

4. Do you think that this sense of audience or community might have affected the way you began to write?

Oh…wait a second. These are like real questions where I’m going to have to think and ponder and cogitate maybe even use a few more five-dollar words that mean “think“ and “ponder“. And I swear, the baby ate my thesaurus, so there goes that Sound All Smart And Stuff resource. I so need help these days when it comes to Sounding All Smart And Stuff.

Seriously, do you know what I did today for about 20 minutes straight?

For almost an entire half hour, the baby and I took turns chasing each other around the house yelling “BAH!” at each other with varying inflection and intonation.

Bah?

BAAAaaaaah.

BbbbbAH!

BaaaaAAAaaaah.

bah.


There was a time right around when my second child was young toddler-age that any duration of diaper-wrestling, or extended sessions of floor-time building block towers to be knocked down again and again and again and agin, or reading Goodnight Moon for the brazillionth time, would cause my brain to rebel and demand that I spend an equal amount of time exercising my cerebral cortex in some more highly-evolved endeavor such as word-smithing a sonnet or jotting down the first few scenes of the libretto I’d been turning over in my mind (it was for a rock opera in the spirit of Tommy except instead of being about a deaf-dumb-and-blind boy who was a wizard at pinball , my rock opera was about a girl with a lisp who was really good at Gnip Gnop) or just about any higher-order-thinking activity that would silence the persistent voice in my head that screeched like Linda Hirshman on a chalkboard: “YOU HAVE A COLLEGE DEGREE! YOU HAVE A COLLEGE DEGREE! YOU HAVE A FREAKING COLLEGE DEGREE!”

Nowadays, I just pour another cup of warm milk and stare at the pretty pictures. Good night, moon! Oh, what a red balloon! And look, there is the red balloon again! Bah! Oh, what a funny balloon! After nap time, we’ll sit at the purple kiddie table and make sippy-cup coasters from happy round cookie-cutter slices of my frontal lobe. Let mommy do the shellac, honey! Weeeeeeeee!

Bah?

So, you can see that this answering-real-questions-meme going to take a lot of energy. I hope Julie appreciates this.

Here goes….

1. Go back to first or early post. How would you describe your voice back in those early days? Who were you writing to? What was your sense of audience (if any) back then?

My first post.

My first post was actually a cheat. It wasn’t even really a blog post, but something that I had written for a local NPR station writing contest. I received an honorable mention with that essay, I’ll have you know. I even attended a reception and had wine and cheese and everything. Of course, the awards reception was only intended for the winners, but that’s a minor point when considering the demands of my ego.

Who was I writing to?

You know, as with most everything I write, I write first and foremost for myself as audience. If I’m not cracking me up or making me go “hhhhmmmm” or poking me in the ribs and making me say “Ouch! Hey, quit it!” then nobody else sees what I've written.

I write to entertain me.

There’s a word for that, I think, and that word begins with “m”. But I already get at least twenty hits a day on the phrases “wallpaper behind toilet” and “caulk joke”, and I don’t need any more "home reonavtion" weirdos hanging around here - if you know what I’m saying - so I‘m not going to type that “m“ word. Let’s just say it rhymes with “plasterbatory” and leave it at that.

Other than that, I read my posts with the question “Would my sister enjoy reading this? Would this make her laugh that kind of laugh that sounds like our grandmother laughing?”

And if my sister isn’t home, I wonder, “Would this here stuff I’ve written make Amy giggle and, perhaps, even snort?”

Amy being The Most Erudite And Well-Read Person In The Whole Wide World (well… definitely in Schuylkill County) and whose connoisseurship of the absurd sets a high bar that just can’t be vaulted by a few tired Monty Python references or a couple of poop jokes.

Although, I bet she’d laugh at this. And this.

Pfft. Plebian

And when Amy’s not around, I think to myself “What would my dear husband think of this here epic post I’ve written? Would he enjoy it? Smile? Snicker? Guffaw? Read it between fantasy baseball innings?”

But then I remember his weird hang-up about subject-predicate agreement and the annoying way he always corrects me when I use improper pronouns in dangling clauses - or whatever it is I do while torturing the English language - and I recall the parting advice of my favorite college writing teacher way back when my future was so bright that I…uh…I had to…ummm…borrow someone’s sunglasses…and those words were

“Never marry an editor.”

Now, I just lie to my husband and tell him that this is my new blog. No dangling persnipple gerundas there.

Anywho...did I answer the question?

Oh! My writing voice.

My writing voice is a bit bouncy, a bit raspy like I’ve had too many beers too late at night. A squidge self-deprecating, a tad “goose up the rump“. Butter melts in my mouth, not in my palm.

2. Do you remember when you received your first comment? What was it like?

My first comment…hmmm…no, I don’t remember it. Let me go look-see.

Oh yes! Jorge Jazzar commented! I work with Jorge. Jorge is a mind-bending and generally awesome writer if he’d only get off his ass and write more. And he doesn’t have half the good excuses I have for not writing more. Oh what, Jorge? You just told me that you only do laundry once a month, so it can’t be that. (And I’m hoping that you own 31 pairs of underwear, ‘cause otherwise I don’t want to even know.)

The first comment from someone who I didn't know personally (or paid to read my blog) was from a poster by the handle of Rox_publius. How did this person find me? I don't know. I wasn’t even making caulk jokes back then.

3. Can you point to a stage where you began to feel that your blog might be part of a conversation? Where you might be part of a larger community of interacting writers?

Uhhhhhhmmm…uhhhhhh…hmmmmmm.

Some time after I joined Crazy/Hip Mom Bloggers…I think…?

Uuhhh…I suppose I began feeling part of a larger community (i.e. "stalker on the periphery") around then. Along with reading my gal-pals who lurk under the Daily Special placard along the right sidebar, I started getting turned-on to a bunch of other super-dooper women bloggers who were talking about kids and work and issues important to mothers besides making frontal lobe sippy cup coasters, except my gal-pals and these new women were all so articulate and eloquent and…damn, where’s my thesaurus…uhm…they were having all these great conversations about feminism and motherhood and the meta-issues surrounding blogging, and occasionally I‘d jump in, too, and wave my hand around and say, “Ooh! Ooh! Yeah! I thought that once, too! Be my friend, huh, wouldja, huh?”

And every once in a while they still humor me and comment on my blog even though we all know I’m mostly just dancing around in my bloomers with a balloon hat on my head while they’re off having incredibly intelligent conversations with Gloria Steinem and winning Pulitzer prizes and taking over the world and whatnot.



Bitches.


Heh. Just kidding.


4. Do you think that this sense of audience or community might have affected the way you began to write?

Uhhhh…I…uhm…I personally believe…that U.S. American blogging communities are affecting the way I write because, uh, some people out there in our nation don't have blogs and, uh, I believe that our, uh, audience like such as in, uh, South Africa and, uh, the Iraq and everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uh, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S. bloggers, uh, should help South Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian blogs, so we will be able to build up our future for our children.

The end.

*************************

Now's the part where I tag some other people.

How about my sister, a friend, and this other chick who is a hot, sexy writer that more people should be reading.

And all of whom should be writing more. For the Iraq. And the Asian bloggers.

7 comments:

Mom101 said...

Oh my God, it's not fair that you get so many funny things in here that I don't even know what to refer back to. But I think my vote goes to "make sippy-cup coasters from happy round cookie-cutter slices of my frontal lobe."

I'm honored to have been a small part of your early blogging experience. For um, the Iraq.

Julie Pippert said...

I forgive in exchange for this awesome post! LOL

And I...ARGH!!!! Comment cut short by call from school, "Come get your sick child."

Hopefully back later...and hopefully funny reply remains in head!

Julie
Using My Words

mamatulip said...

You crack me up no matter what. You could write about lint, goddammit, and I'd laugh so hard I'd be crying. For true.

lildb said...

I'll see your bloomer-dancing and frontal-lobe cookie coasters and raise you a totaled memo-mission (like a transmission, only it's for memory, and it's part of the brain, not a car engine, and it's also sexy and probably has great breath).

I'm. too. tired. to comment on your brilliance. It overpowers me in its mt-everest-awesomeness.

iow, You're beautiful, man.

Daclaren said...

And all of whom should be writing more. For the Iraq. And the Asian bloggers.

Bwahahahahahahaha...

I don't care who y'are, that's funny right thur.

Redneck Mommy said...

That's right baby; everytime I sit down to write, I'm doing it for the Iraq. Glad you know it.

Snicker.

I've got nothing because I am still processing this brilliant, kick ass meme reply.

How's that for eloquent?

Imperfect Mommy said...

hah. too funny. i ,too, with this baby find myself making coasters with the frontal lobe. in between finger painting with mashed potatoes. and i noticed the other day at lunch that the boy and i said nothing other then "mmmmmmm..." in different tones and rhythms for about a half hour. i am sure with the first girl i was reading her encyclopedia entries to improve her vocab. this boy probably won't speak til he's three.

Blog Ping