So the last time we talked, I was in the midst of re-evaluating my social media situation. Meaning: my little virtual life on Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest. (I never could get into Twitter.) But really: the way I’d become a Compulsive Checker, of all those things.
I haven’t posted to Instagram in a week. It feels surprisingly good. I think I’m about ready to stop hoping-you’ll-like-my-status on Facebook, too. I don’t know if I want to get rid of it entirely, but I might try it. I would like to think the people who matter would find a way to get in touch/stay in touch, but I would hate to make it hard for them.
Pinterest isn’t really making me feel bad, so I’m still using that. Fifteen minutes here and there feels fine. The feel-good quotes actually do feel good, okay?!
And I’ve decided/discovered something else: it’s not the blog that’s been making me feel bad — it’s the PR around it. It’s the hey, hi, hello, I wrote something — YOU SHOULD GO READ IT that really, really does not feel good. To me. Because I am like the opposite of a shouty capitals person, in real life. So here’s the deal: I’m not going to try to grow my audience anymore. Or not actively, anyway.
I feel so, so good about this. I get to write, and you get to come — but only if you want to. Do I hope that you’ll want to? Do I hope that you’ll remember to stop by sometimes, when you’re bored at work? Well yes. Yes, of course I do. (Why start lying now?) You have an open invitation from me, always. But that’s all I want it to be.
To clarify: It’s not that I haven’t been writing about what I want to write about — it’s just that I’ve been feeling way too self-conscious about it. This way, when I hit Publish, I feel A LOT less like I’m standing up on stage, under a horribly hot set of lights. Definitely, definitely sweating through my shirt. This way feels a lot more fun.
Next time I will write about the other stuff that’s been happening, I think. Some of it is not so fun. Some of it is big and ugly and just getting worse. Exponentially worse. Even though I am trying hard. So, so hard. Here’s a preview: Operation Avoid Eating Camp.
I’ll write about Portland again too, I think. Both Portlands. Am I thinking about going back? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe, yeah. But not before I feel like I can say I gave the west coast a really good shot.
I’ll also write about love, because that’s my [unapologetic!] favorite. I’ll write about love as I know it now, but also about love as I hope to know it. Love as I hope to know it includes a lifetime of not-sad Sundays. And a living, breathing reason to write a thousand letters, a new one every day.
And when I’m sick of writing, I’ll go back to quoting, for a little while. Because I like that. I like this, even if I wish I could tweak it a little:
“If you wish to go to extremes, let it be in sweetness, patience, humility and charity.” -St. Philip Neri
And when I run out of ideas altogether, I’ll write about funny vegetables. Alien vegetables. As I come across them, as I see them.
And I’ll use all the exclamation points I want, while I do it. (Scarlet Queen salad turnips!!)
Sound like a plan? Sounds like a plan.