State of the Blogger Address, Part II

Posted: November 15, 2014 in Guest Blogged!
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Matt the Firsty, back to hopefully finish my ‘State of the Blogger Address’.  Back in Part I, I was primarily talking about what’s going on in my life: still working two jobs, just became a home owner for the first time, about to become a father for the first time.  Time management was already the five-hundred-pound gorilla beating up on me; now I’m going to have up my game to deal with his eight-hundred-pound rabid older brother.  Lucky me.  (Brief Musical Interlude: My Luck is So Bad.)  In Part II, I want to talk about what’s going on in Emily’s life.

"Since Firsty's giving me a day off, I'm gonna shop 'til the baby drops!"

“Since Firsty’s giving me a day off, I’m gonna shop ’til the baby drops!”

I suppose first I should talk about the obligatory style card.  After all, Emily’s quirky style sense is one of her defining characteristics.  Today is a casual day:

  • Shape: Nina, month 8 from Baby Bumps;
  • Skin: Jada (april group gift) from WoW Skins;
  • Tattoos: Bad Girl from -UtopiaH-; Starship Lipstick (Blue Purple) from Pink Acid; Pregnancy Stretch Marks from Freaky Geeky;
  • Hair: Jenny, Jet-Black/Red-Tips (Designer unknown, but a freebie from Free Dove);
  • Outfit: Peace Patch Jeans from Alady Island; the shirt is actually the corset and under corset out of the ‘Miss Tick’ halloween costume from Petit Chat.
  • Boots: Red Leather Kicks from Prozak.  (The first thought was Fetish Doll ankle boots, but stiletto heels and swollen pregnancy ankles just don’t mix well…)
  • Accessories: Jackie-O Black Sunglasses, Razorwire Bangles both from Grumble, Grumble; Old Padlock Necklace from Bite & Claw; source unknown Silver Hoop Earrings;

Comfy, relaxed, and still sexy even with a due date that is less than a month away.  Plus she looks like she could still kick somebody’s ass if she needed to…

Second, I’m going to confess straight up that time management is going to continue to be Emily’s bugaboo as well as mine.  If the world ran according to my wishes- and believe me, it doesn’t- this blog would feature a post almost every day.  Instead, I suspect I’ll probably continue along at the current clip of one or two posts every week, suffer a certain amount of chronic guilt that Emily and I aren’t posting more frequently, and occasionally have a brief spasm of productivity when the stars align and I can make the daily posts I insist on thinking of as ‘normal productivity’.

" 'A nice long vacation'?  That sounds like a lovely idea…"

” ‘A nice long vacation’? That sounds like a lovely idea…

If I decide to be not just honest but brutally honest, there are actually good reasons why I should send Emily on a nice long vacation.  A.) The frantic hectic-ness (hecticity?) of my schedule means I have a to-do list that builds faster than I can check things off.  Even as I feel guilt that Emily & I aren’t posting as often as we should, I simultaneously feel guilt for all the things I should be doing instead of sitting down for fun-time.  I spent from 11:00 to 3:30 today raking leaves out of my new yard for two and half hours.  (Yes, it takes me four and half hours to rake leaves for two and a half hours.  Welcome to my ADD world; this is why time management is a gorilla beating up on me.)  I had a chore I needed to finish today- leaf pick up is early the day after tomorrow and tomorrow is a long day where I open one restaurant and close the other- and only completed three-quarters.  I have to confess blogging was the reason I didn’t finish: I was up too late last night finishing last post, so I didn’t get out to start raking as early as I wanted to, and some of that disappearing two hours was spent starting this post.  Even as I write this, I also have a list of other things I could and probably should be doing.

B.) Brutal logic also dictates that Emily isn’t just getting in the way of non-writing activities, but that she is also blocking me from more serious and/or lucrative writing projects.  I would love to break into the fiction market somewhere and try to leverage and bootstrap that break until I could cut back on one or both serving jobs and lean on writing as an income source.  It’s pretty much my fantasy-dream job, even with all I know about how unpredictable and undependable an income source writing is.  If all the busy-ness and guilt I mentioned in point A only allows me time to write 12,000 words a week (and twelve thousand is just an arbitrary number picked for the sake of example; the real number is probably less, not more) than all the words I write towards Emily and her unpaid, small-readership blog subtract from my allowance of words to use for chasing my life’s dream.  They probably subtract at more than a one to one ratio, for that matter, since I also have to invest time into picking Emily’s outfits, taking and editing her photos, and documenting the style cards which are generally tangent to my purposes even if not to Emily’s.

"Wait a minute, I thought a tangent was a man who got a lot of sun…"

“Wait a minute, I thought a tangent was a man who got a lot of sun…”

C.)  Possibly the most damning argument against Emily is that my wife doesn’t like her.  Some aspects of Emily, and of Second Life in general, just confuse my wife.  Others down right disturb her.  And sadly, open-mindedness is not one of my wife’s strong points.  If something confuses her or disturbs her, she doesn’t want to talk about it and find understanding, she just wants it to go away.  Nor does it help that I’m a little hazy myself about what Emily is to me.  Depending on my mood, what I’ve been doing, and my mental state for the day, I may variously describe Emily as a role I play, as an aspect of my personality, as a fictional alter ego, or in the third person.  Because it is simpler to humor her than to make a big deal, I try to be fairly furtive with my Second Life time, going online primarily when my wife is out of the house or asleep.  That plan has yielded mixed results, since I haven’t waved my Second Life in her face, but I think I’ve also allowed her to conclude Second Life is some sort of interactive virtual porn game.  And she has decided that Emily is some kind of trashy slut.  My wife came into the room while I was taking the pictures for Part I of this address, looked at Emily posing and said rather nastily, “She’s got a tattoo now?  What’s next, getting her pregnant?”  Awkward, since Emily has generally been as pregnant as she has for the last four months.  Also awkward because once upon a time my wife wanted a tattoo, and reminding her would not have ended well for me…

So why do I continue to post to Time Well Wasted?  The biggest reason is that this space has become part of my emotional processing.  Many people who only know me superficially dismiss me as cold or calloused.  I’m neither, but if you measure my personality type, with Meier Briggs or a similar instruments, my preference for analytical thought scores off the chart.  I very quickly process words and numbers, but in emotional matters, I’m counting on my fingers and moving my lips while I read.  In general, I push emotional stuff off to one side to deal with later when I have more time to think it out.  If the issue gets forced, or if too many emotional strands build up, my mind squirrels out and I can’t do anything but look for a way out.  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve used this space to push and probe a troublesome thought until I had it pinned down with words and it no longer dragged at me, or used this space to rehash an event that bothered me so that I knew just how it got under my skin.

Plus, while this little ‘unpaid, small-readership blog’ may not help me reach my dream of being a for-real, money-making, genuine writer, it is a safe place.  I’m honing my skills.  I have visible progress, because I can see how many entries I’ve posted, how many words for each, etc. and each post is small enough that it is within my time constraints (albeit barely).  My dream of being a writer is still a fragile thing, too tender for me to invest a month into a short story or a longer time into a novel, and risk giving up because I get stuck, or get rejected, or get bored.  I’ve had other dreams that didn’t make it, so I’m afraid to really risk this dream by putting it to the test.

"Well, that's just un-BEAR-ably cute…"

“Well, that’s just un-BEAR-ably cute…”

Ironically, my wife’s blanket disapproval and incomprehension of how I feel about writing also helps protect Emily.  Her feelings are understandable- my wife and I have an ex-brother-in-law who dreamed of being a musician.  He earned the ‘ex’ in large part because he neglected his children and failed to be a financial provider so that he could daydream about being a musician.  He didn’t pursue gigs, practice his instruments, or make an earnest attempt to sell the songs he wrote, but he told people he was a musician, he made family gatherings awkward by bringing his guitar everywhere, and bought all the apps that he thought would help him.  Our sister saw more in him than we did, she would have made the sacrifices to help him put his dream to the test if he had followed through, but he didn’t.  I know my wife cringes at my artistic dream because she sees the specter of him, saying all the right words but hiding behind his dream instead of pursuing it.  The irony is that I’m always at my best when she believes in me, because its easier to be brave when she’s got my back.  Whether she intends it or not, the message I receive from her disinterest in my writing and her willingness to distract me from it is that she doesn’t believe in me for this particular area.  That is a confession that it really hurts to make, and I feel unfaithful complaining about someone who means so much to me in so many other ways, but this is probably the one place in my life where I need her most and she isn’t here.  If she was, there would be a lot less need to cling to a emotionally safe place in my writing.  The calculus of finite time holds true either way: I don’t have time for both other, emotionally-riskier writing and also for my small safe blog.

"Actually, Firsty, I have some ideas on how to help your dreams come true.  Talk to me before you get to part III…"

“Actually, Firsty, I have some ideas on how to help your dreams come true. Talk to me before you get to part III…”

Once again, a single aspect of what I wanted to say mushroomed into a longer passage than I intended… apparently Emily is going to get one more night off as I’m going to require a Part III…

P.S.: Spoiler Alert: Oh, and it turns out I have less time than I thought to figure out fitting my writing time around ‘Firsty, Jr’ (due to my privacy policies, that’s the nickname I’m sticking with.)  Earlier this week my wife went to the doctor for a routine “that due date is getting closer” check-up and instead got an unplanned emergency C-section.  Both mother and child are doing well, and I am ecstatically happy.  My luck is definitely not so bad, so here’s a different musical interlude

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Comments
  1. […] about what was new in my life: home-ownership and impending fatherhood.  I got distracted in Part II, and talked about the reasons to continue or discontinue blogging, concluding if I logically […]

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