I think I've this mentioned before, but every summer I turn into an insomniac. I don't know why this is, oh wait, I probably do. I turn into an insomniac because from June to late August, I have no schedule. Oh, the life of a teacher. Remind yourselves of my summer freedom every time you roll around in your piles of money that you get from the job society actually appreciates. My teenage brother came home from work the other day, (Clara and I were visiting my Mom,) and Grant just emptied a bunch of 20 and 50 dollar bills from his pockets. From one day of work. I don't want to live on a planet where I think my teenage brother makes more than me pulling weeds when I'm the one EDUCATING THE LEADERS OF THE FUTURE, but here we are, on this planet.
For the record, I don't want to live on a planet where Romney is a serious contender for the White House, the Kardashians make money, and people keep electing Republicans, but what can you do?
A complete and ADD-fueled aside: I've decided that Glitter is the crafting equivalent of Moderate Republicans. Fun in theory, but really, just a mess to clean up and sort of pointless.
I don't know why I capitalized "Glitter," but this is no delete Thursday, so Glitter is now a proper noun. Wahoo!
Hmmmmm, what else should I tell you, internet, on this no delete post? Aha! I shall break the cardinal rule of blogging and talk about blogging. Quick note before we get started though. I do not understand why it is socially acceptable for a blogger to post ninety thousand photos of themselves in a single post, but we aren't supposed to talk about blogging. We are just supposed to pretend that this is our secret journal that mysteriously wound up on the internet, and not acknowledge the fourth wall that is blogging for an audience. I know people read this. I write for an audience. Is "fourth wall" even the correct term for recognizing that you know people are reading your blog? I don't know. All I know is that when the characters in Seinfeld broke the fourth wall, it was all REVOLUTIONARY and TV HISTORY. So there you go.
Anyway, blogging about blogging. I realized my blogging kryptonite (spell check is not letting me fix that in blogger, and if we are going to be capitalizing Glitter, we are going to be leaving kryptonite.) Anyway, perhaps I should refer to this as my blogging Achilles heel, since I apparently know how to spell Achilles. Shit this post is getting embarrassing.
My blogging Achilles heel is dick commenters who misunderstand what I mean, usually because they are sort of dumb. Is that also against blogging rules, to acknowledge that some of your readers might be one candle short of a chandelier? Most of you are great, and I love interacting with you. Most of my friends are internet friends now, some that I have met in real life, and like that book they sell in Deseret Book to convince Mormon virgins that it is okay to have sex, "I am not ashamed." I am not ashamed of you internet friends.
Likewise, I usually don't bother with the openly hostile comments, except to remind them that I have feelings. And unless I feel like the conversation will be interesting and constructive, I sort of ignore the ones that disagree with me on every point. Therein lies the rub, though, friends. I don't care if you disagree with me on one of my opinions, as long as you understand what my opinion actually is.
If you get all up in my face though about how I think all men are evil, or that I am just disagreeing with you because you are a man, (confession, I originally typed because I am a man, and no delete Thursday be damned, I wasn't letting that one go,) I will get in your face trying to clarify.
Which is really, really stupid, because people who read my blog and get that message can't be reasoned with at all, and our conversations just end up like this:
(Don't know source, someone posted this on my Facebook wall. Sorry internets.)
And then I go like this:
And it is a vicious, vicious, cycle, in which I write two whole posts (one I am proud of because it addresses a larger issue about equality, and one I am ashamed of because I wrote it at 1:23 am on a Friday morning, but not really too ashamed because childbirth rids you of any dignity, of which I had very little to begin with, ANYDAMNWAY.)
So my new goal of blogging is to never interact with dumb people. Mean? Yes. Opposition? Yes. Friendly? I'll meet you with a Diet Coke somewhere and we will be friends. Dumb? Of course I still will, don't be ridiculous. But I will be ashamed after. Like Mormons having sex.
See? That all came full circle.
I have to go now. My boobs are going to explode. Sorry, male readers, prudes, and any relative reading this besides my Spouse, who should just apologize because somehow this situation is all his fault.