Without trying to sound dramatic, I literally was on a high from blogging. I was smiling all the time. If someone annoyed me it was great, because it was more material for my blog. I couldn’t even walk anymore, I skipped everywhere. I was so annoying that I wanted to punch me. But I couldn’t, because I was too damn happy! The numbers of visitors to my site were increasing by the day and anytime I thought about stopping (which was rare), I knew I had to keep going for the sake of my fans. These people needed me.
With each post came the pressure to ensure that I was creating something that was as funny and interesting, if not more so than the last blog. And although it may be hard for you to believe, sometimes it doesn’t flow as naturally from me. And sometimes I don’t want to see the funny side of something that is annoying. Sometimes I just want to be angry, like a little child who stands there with a screwed up faced and crossed arms, steadfastly refusing to smile at any attempts to make me laugh. I might have mentioned it before, but if someone angers me, I don’t like if they say sorry too quickly (although it is much worse if they say it too late or not at all);
1) It comes across as false
2) I’m often not ready to hear it yet meaning that I usually want to moan some more.
3) It makes me seem unreasonable if I don’t accept it immediately
4) It makes me doubt if they know why they are saying sorry.
5) If they know why they should be sorry that quickly, it makes me even angrier that they did it in the first place because on some level it means they knew it was the wrong thing to do all along.
Sometimes I can forget about a grievance immediately. It’s not until the person asks ‘so you forgive me then?’ that I remember I was supposed to be angry. But other times I need to go through a process before I am ready, otherwise I become that passive aggressive person who pretends to be okay and then proceeds to make little digs EVERY TIME they get something else wrong. Now I can shame them in my blog instead.
But I digress. Which is half the problem! It is hard to stay focussed on one topic but no one wants to read my disorganised ramblings. Yes, there is actually some order to my rants even if it doesn’t read as such. But my mind goes to many places with each mention of a word.
I was at my mum’s house the other day and my twin brother was debating about whether to eat something in the house or whether to get takeaway. We were in the middle of a conversation about something and nothing when my mum walked in and announced that she had made jerk chicken. Apparently, I paused mid sentence and then froze for about 5 seconds. In those 5 seconds I had thought:
What is there to eat with the jerk chicken? But I really want salmon. Uche has the Justeat app open; I can’t tell if he has already ordered. If he hasn’t, maybe I should order something to eat with the jerk chicken. But the jerk chicken is probably drumsticks and I hate drum sticks. But I really shouldn’t waste money and she just cooked that for the family. Ooh he’s ordering from Kebabi, I don’t think they do salmon. I can have the chicken with halloumi cheese. What’s the woman on Come Dine with Me eating? Has he already ordered? Ma will probably be upset since she just cooked the chicken. I really want some warm chocolate cake. I don’t even like drumsticks. I WANT SALMON! Does salmon go with halloumi cheese? We don’t even have any salmon. I swear that’s Salmon on Come Dine. It’s a sign! Ooh I rhymed. And again! Maybe I should start writing song lyrics again. I’m hungry. Where can I get salmon from at this time on a Sunday? I can’t even be bothered to...
Then I was rudely interrupted by Dr Twinlet laughing at the blank expression on my face and asking me what was going on inside my head. As I started to tell him the above, he turned back to his food order and was about to press ‘complete’ when I shouted out ‘halloumi’. Anyway, the point of that story (yes there was one) is that one statement leads to a multitude of thoughts in my head and it’s quite an achievement that I am able to make sense of those thoughts and put them into relatively coherent sentences for y’all to read.
Someone I know applauded me, not on having the blog, but on the fact that I didn’t do it anonymously. It didn’t even cross my mind to be anonymous. Or maybe it did but was dismissed so quickly that it never even fully registered with me. The point at which I decided to share my discursive discourse, I was so certain that everyone would see the hilarity and fabulousness that I had created that I would want the guaranteed glory that came with it. Why would I hide myself from the praise and adoration that would come from my blog? I didn’t even consider that it could be embarrassing. That people may be reading the blog in the same way that someone can’t look away from a car crash. That maybe my posts are forming someone else’s blog entitled ‘the demise of a nut case’. But I choose to believe that the stats are because people enjoy reading my craziness and some can even identify with it.
I have forgotten the point of this blog post so I’ll just stop here. Thanks for reading :-)