I used to have a Blog. A long time ago - or at least, that's how it feels. It was called One Girl and Her Cats (and, rather stupidly, jabbered on about pretty much anything and everything but the damn cats. They did get the odd mention, though) and I had followers; can you believe that? People actually logged on and deliberately clicked a link to my Blog in order to read what I had put, just as I logged on and clicked the link to theirs; sort of a mutually beneficial orgy of egotistical gratification.
But then life took over, and upsetting things happened, and I wasn't able to think of what to write anymore. Or at least, not the sort of things I wanted to write. There was nothing interesting or funny to say; just me stumbling about blindly in a fog and trying to think of something original and witty but only able to come up with a bleak blankness of repetitive boredom.
And it wasn't just me; almost all of the Bloggers that I had found by accident and then through my own writings become (or thought I had become) so close to were vanishing, one by one. Life and its goods and bads and ups and downs had taken over for them, too. For all of us, suddenly there was either no time spare and no inclination to write anything down even if there was. So they stopped. All of them. Some of them tried to keep going, as I did; posting erratically and infrequently, knowing what was happening but refusing to accept the inevitable. But eventually the inevitable won through. Some left their Blogs open - some still are, I think - and let them sit there; relics to Blogging Days that once were. Others deleted out right, or left them open for a short spell and then deleted. I was one of the ones that deleted outright.
I tried to restart - changing the name a little to something more appropriate; One Girl and Her Dog - and begin afresh, but it didn't work. Nor did tentative dips of the toe into the worlds of Twitter and Facebook - although to be fair Facebook did snare me for a while. Damn Farmville; that was an unexpected addiction that was bloody hard to kick - and MySpace. None of it worked. My heart wasn't in it. I had nothing to say and no-one to say it to. So I accepted it, and I stopped.
Until now.
As I said; I don't think I have anything all that interesting to say. Nor do I believe that anybody will listen. I shan't be advertising this anywhere - why the hell would I? The only way anybody would stumble upon it would be by accident, and even then they might not like what they read. But I'm doing it anyway. Because I need to talk. I need to vent and muse and let out all of the feelings that are bottled up inside of me. I could do that privately, in a diary, I know, but I've never been very good at that; I'm best typing rather than writing. I could create a Word Document and hammer out my thoughts there, I know that too; but that doesn't feel right either. Maybe it's my inner egotist, consumed with the urge to spew out its worthlessness into a vast and eternal pool because in such a vast and eternal pool it is possible - unlikely, but possible - that somebody, somewhere, might read it and rather than being uninterested would be awed and impressed by the brilliance of it.
So there you are, mystery and possibly non-existent awed and impressed (rather than uninterested and underwhelmed) reader; that is the story of how One Fat Girl and her Thoughts came to be. And for my first brilliant and raptly engrossing observation of the world I inhabit, I will say this:
Animals that appear in TV shows - and their handlers, of course, but mostly the animals themselves - are absolutely bloody marvelous. So there.
Tara A Bit.
Alice xxx
No comments:
Post a Comment