Jen Friday, April 30, 2010

(Taking new profile pics, dressed up like a grown-up.) 

One of my BFF's has been encouraging me for years to blog. This particular friend, (who I think should also blog, but she's having her third baby in October and thinks she won't have time, which, whatever, who has time for this) is my tether to the world of pop culture. Her and Vanity Fair magazine. I like to hear about trendy social developments and pop culture second-hand, through trusted filters. I don't own a television because I prefer to sleep and read, so I ask this friend, if there was one show I should download and watch, which one should it be? (She recommended Mad Men, and I still haven't gotten around to it.)  Anyway, she thought I would be good at blogging. 
I don't know. I tried to start a blog nearly one year ago because I thought it would be a catharsis over this weird grieving I'm doing over my son being overseas half the time, and also, my mother (66 years old) has dementia, and she's fading fast. So there's these two quasi-griefs in my life, and it would make sense to write about them, since I'm a writer. But last year, I made this big dramatic entre into the blogosphere with a solemn treatise on Why Mother's Day Sucks For Me As A Mother And A Daughter, and I just couldn't muster another entry after that. I think I forgot to see any humor in the situation, was my problem. It seems like self-deprecating, sardonic humor is a big part of the mommy blogosphere, and in my attempt on M. Day '09 I was taking myself pretty fucking seriously.
I worried to my BFF this week (my first week of blogging) about the whole kid-worship aspect of mommy blogging. I just can't let myself get too into my son. I'm still mostly interested in myself. It feels like a survival mechanism from him being with his dad half the time, and it's also just more natural for me. I love him with all the altruism of a normal member of the human species--I'd definitely cover my body with his against a barrage of bullets, or hoist him out the window of a burning house only to succumb to the flames myself. No problem. But it's weird, I'm still number one in my life, apart from the base protective instinct. And that feels way healthier. For me. 
Anyway, my BFF said my blog should be about me, not about Victor, anyway. The best blogs are, she says. Okay, I'm good at that. I'll give that a try. What am I most interested in? Frankly, sex. Human sexuality. So this might turn into mommy blog-human sexuality information aggregator. 


Turbo said...

I really like this post--feels honest and real. I know your situation with Victor is good and healthy for everyone, but sometimes it just sucks. Reading about how you get through that is interesting.

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