As I read the stuff you write, all of you, with your wonderful blogs, sometimes I keep thinking about it, like, for DAYS after I made my incoherent, typo laden comment(s) - I'm still thinking ... wanting to say more. Better.
Maybe I should shoot off an email.
But that's no good. You might email me back and then I'd have to reply back ... it could go on for days ... I have an OCD pen pal thing, I never knew how bad it was until recently.
It's pretty bad.
(I won)
I keep listening to that John Mayor Meyer Mayer, whatever his name is - the song called "Say" - "say what you need to say." Rather, "Say wachoo need ta saaaaaheyheyayay."
One of you - I just can't tell you enough that women aren't men, women are crazy. I don't know why, but it is true. If a guy doesn't talk to you, doesn't respond or reply, it is probably because he is not interested. SIMPLE. If a girl hesitates, it is because she has to go through every parallel universe each possible decision may create and weigh all the pros and cons and consult half a million friends and relatives, some random strangers on blogs, Twitter, Facebook, check to see if she's ovulating or PMSing ... there are a lot of factors at play. You just never know ... maybe it's just me. Me, being a crazy girl, who puts my amazing husband literally through hell (where hell equals a not-pleasant, contractual and emotional obligation), who doesn't any where near deserve such a patient, intelligent, funny, man. So you think you're saving yourself from damaged goods ... and that's wise, but a good apple might have a few bruises under the shiny skin and it's fine.
I'm mostly a good person who deserves a good husband and to be happy - is what I'm saying, is what you provoke out of me, make me doubt. Is what I'm trying to convince myself of.
It's Mayer. Hey, that reminds me of that Jonathon Coulton song, First of May - I've never listened to it all the way through. I tell myself I will, then I chicken out and skip ahead.
And another one of you - I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you every time I hit the publish button. I'm afraid I won't come through this one thing, this one silly thing that I want so bad and I'll feel awkward and stupid. And poor. And I'm stupid selfish to push for it anyway. You've inspired me so many times, encouraged, supported ... I'm always in awe of you. And maybe now just isn't the right time. It'll be ok ... but I'll regret it. Probably either way I'll regret it.
And you know how stupid you feel when someone pays you an undeserved compliment and you both know it was undeserved and inaccurate, but you took it anyway, as if it belonged. Yeah. When name calling fails me, I punch a shoulder. If no shoulder presents itself, I am lost. Not clever or witty, not even that tenacious. Just ... annoying, if you ask me. And still feeling embarrassed. I wish there was a take back feature. In life. Or even if I could just see 2 minutes into the future. Or had the wisdom to shut my virtual cake hole. So sorry.
Let's see, anyone else? When you called me your bloggy idol, I choked on my spittle. Must never compliment Mrs. B. Roth ... only insult.
Oh, and that lady who asked the Internet what we thought about her getting a boob job because she's an A ... please! All those people who said, if it will make you feel better, sure drop 10K on a set of hot knockers, they are full of shite. FULL! You're a woman. Fix the boobs, you'll find some other part of your body or mind or personality to hate. The blogger I love who recently botoxed - I have to say, I was disappointed. Why do we do this? It's not just to ourselves, but to each other, too. You've elevating yourself by stomping down your peers. Can we just love Susan Boyle the way she is? Can't you just accept me the way I am? Let me be grey and wrinkled and saggy of breast. Sure, I'm not pretty, but wise and funny - crows feet!
Oh, and not a reader I'm sure, but stuck nonetheless, you need to be less of a jerk to your kid.
I'm debating whether or not to include links ...
OK, no links. Sorry. We know who we are.
I have to get up at 6am and pretend to move 2.5 miles while staying in the same spot for 30 minutes. It's much harder than it sounds. I will succeed.
Random Random nonsense of a post. But I love the blogs I read. Keep writing things that get stuck in my head. The thoughts I fill with your words help drown out Agent Oso ... OH NO! Now that song is in my head again ... here's a freaking link for you.
9 Brilliant Bits of Inspiration:
You can try to goad me all you want, but I have here a written confession that I in fact won. I won't be drawn in to your web again.
And in reference to your currently latest Tweet, please don't set the precedent that engorged breasts can't stop someone from running 2.5 miles in the morning, cause I have been milking (pun intended) that excuse for years.
[My CAPTCHA for this comment is "minglo", as in "Ming-Lo Moves the Mountain"... ahhh, that takes me back to first grade.]
Look here! It is 5:55 am (my luckiest time of day) and see how I am replying in a comment, not reply backing (one should know when one ought not start that again)? But then, regardless of the content of the "confession" of failure, is it not the last one who reply backed in some form who really wins? (BY THE WAY - my son showed me how I can set my inbox to have a message automatically sent to all incoming messages so ... you are on notice.
NOW! To strap the girls down and do a lot of going nowhere at a pretty slow pace ... though not as slow as if it were you.
("Pun intended", indeed. You had to draw attention to your cleverness, didn't you? Look at me, I'm so funny. you may have all YOUR readers convinced, but I won't have you deceiving my mine!)
Thanks, I think...
But I sometimes wonder if I have the stomach for it all. The reward is so far not worth the cost ... emotionally, I mean.
Thanks again.
Like I said before I hate that show, it drives me crazy. So I've started tricking my child. She really likes Sean the Sheep which is between shows so I let her watch the show before and Sean and then I have started setting the TV to change channels before "that show" so I don't have to watch that before she leaves for the bus.
See, this post clearly illustrates why you are my blogging idol:) Of all the blogs I have read over my almost year of blogging, I have told more people about your blog than any other BY FAR. Hopefully I got you some loyal readers:)
Oh, Amy, that's beautiful. I've got to find a way to do that.
NO NO NO linking Stupid Agent Oso. I need morning scripture study to last longer so I can leave that blasted show turned off.
(Did you see my post about how many variations of "special agent oso is stupid" led people to me blog? lol)
I'm confused.
I don't think my children are yet aware that Special Agent Oso was more than a one day phenomenon on the Disney Channel. This backs up my belief that God loves me and wants me to stay sane.
Amy and I talk about your blog sometimes when we're not on the computer. You stick with us and make us ponder long after your posts have been read. I think we're all drawn to blogs that make us think. It's enjoyable to read blogs written by other moms doing the same things we do. It's enjoyable to read blogs from people so different that the only insight we have into their existence is by reading what they write. My favorites are like you- somewhere in between what I know and what I've never experienced. Keep making me think! :-)
I often notice that bloggers who are several years younger than me often agonize over the fact that they're not good enough in some way, and are so full of self-doubt and self-recrimination.
You are not the best mom, wife, Mormon, blogger, daughter, etc...etc...etc... there ever was. And you are not the worst. You are somewhere in the middle. Like almost all of us. Focus on doing one little thing right each day, and then, give yourself credit for it. You're enough, okay? You're enough.
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