A while ago, I made the distressing realization that I would never be a good personal blogger. This is a difficult epiphany because while it’s freed up a lot of my time, it’s forced me to confront the reasons why my life would not bring inspiration to hundreds, nay MULTIPLE HUNDREDS, of devoted Interweb fans.
For one thing, I don’t have kids or a dog. I don’t have a husband yelling at me in the background, providing endless fodder for comedy because husbands are dumb. For another thing, I’m sitting here in “relaxi” pants my mother bought me, drinking out of a Sleepless in Seattle mug that I bought from Goodwill for five cents when I was 22 and thought it was hilarious when I was 22, not realizing eventually I would no longer be 22 and living alone and drinking out of it in relaxi pants, thus transforming my life into the beginning of a terrible romantic comedy cliche, one that not even Sandra Bullock could elevate to the level of art. It’d have to be Heather Graham.
And I hate Heather Graham. I should really get a dog. And maybe try Match.com. God.
I’m sorry. I realize this is shocking. Bloggers LOVE pictures. They suck up space in an otherwise overwhelming blank space of wordage. They bring color and life to the page. They are our salvation. I love looking at them and I appreciate those who take the time to set the scene, fix the lighting, get the shot, download the picture, tweak it in Photoshop and upload it onto their site. I just can’t do it myself. I can’t. Even typing that sentence makes my palms sweat. Please don’t make me. My apartment is a mess. I make a mean pesto but please don’t ask me to artfully arrange it on a plate. I’m too busy trying to eat it as fast as possible. And you don’t want to see that either, trust me.
And anyway, why should I bother? Especially when there is a WEALTH of available photography out there. That’s right, I’m going to just sit here sipping my instant Viennese International Coffee blend and mooch off the rest of you instead. Because, quite frankly, you people are GENIUSES. Why should I bother to compete at all when every day I’m smacked in the face with the brilliance of your efforts?
Look at what I just made! I’m amazing!
I just gave birth to this kid and made him a homemade popsicle! Coolest mom ever.
Remember when I moved to Chicago? Fooled you! I went to San Francisco instead and took this picture!
I could go on and on. I could delve into the wonderland that is Flickr but that would take hours and all I really want to do now is marvel at your work. I mean my work. I mean OUR WORK.