This statement sums up a piece my personality as it applies to interpersonal relationships. I am shocked when people like me and I am shocked when they do not like me. Lately, I have been struggling with my “writing” career because quite honestly, people behind keyboards “trolling” to comment their “opinions” (opinions is an understatement, it’s more like a life time full of rage) seem to be on the rise lately. I put myself on a timer for Facebook because I get sucked into the comments section on various blogs etc and I’m saddened at how people are just oozing with a vitriol hate towards the author.
Nonetheless , here are some posts that never made it to my Facebook blog page because 1) its not very “viral” (Not sure if that’s the right word?) and doesn’t get much “attention”; therefore when I see “45 people saw your post” and zero people like the post, it really chastises my codependent demons as in they stop hugging each other and start fighting with each other. I do not know what it is about Facebook, even Instagram for that matter, I am extremely affected by the whole “like” aspect. On Word Press, it does not bother me because I feel safe here and for the most part it seems as though we are a community trying to support one another versus tearing each other down from behind a keyboard!
I email myself my status updates that I do not post or screen shot the scheduled posts I deleted before they went live to my 310 “followers”. Listed below are the posts that have succumbed to the misfortune of being exiled to the Island of Misfits:
- You now the humidity is fo realz when your magnets are permanently stuck to their hosts. OR the homemade preschool magnets from 1903 should have been stored safely in the preschool memoirs box.
- The messy pony tail look is highly acceptable for this suburban mom, but poses high risk of inflated-control-anxiety issues when my 7 year old daughter implements the same rudimentary hair skills.
- Sometimes I think I like obscurity too much. WAIT?! Does that make me a superfly-young-hiptser where I can ostensibly wear egregious outfits that are ironically fabulous.
- My daily sentiments are sprinkled with facetious glitter and the heartwarming dysfunction of my demons flirting with each other (I did put this on instagram)
- My son understand math that I barely understoond when I was in college, but then when asked asked by his sister for help using the word “her” in a sentence, his response is “Her Butt”. I swear he did not watch the VMA awards with Nikki and Beyonce.
That’s about all I have time for today in writing, I’m keeping my blogs shorter in an effort to spend more time writing my book, and quite frankly, I think people lose interest after about 500 words!
This blog is like the ridiculous sweater I bought at Anthropologie a few years ago. It was on sale and the sales lady told me "it looks awesome on you." It's the most bizarre sweater, and whether it looked good on me or not, is highly debatable. Like these blogs, I look at them at say "Yeesh, what was I thinking,," or laugh or bath in their cathartic qualities. The sweater stays for the same reasons.