To Blog or not to Blog…that is the Question

So,  I was having the dirtiest martinis in the land with my friend David (whom I have never called Dave) and Dave (whom I have never called David) at The Russian Vodka Room the other night after seeing Laura Linney's amazing performance in "Time Stands Still." While eating vodka soaked olives as appetizers, I admitted that I have been working on a "blog" for over a year and that I haven't made one post yet.

David pretty much calls me pussy saying, "what in the hell are you waiting for? Just hit PUBLISH." I try to explain how permanent hitting publish is and that I had taken a year because A.) I wanted to prove to myself that I had some sort of discipline lodged deep inside one of my veins and that B.) my blog had a purpose, a point, a direction not just some random babbling of the subconscious garbage echoing my dizzy ADD thought process and chatting uselessly about what I was eating or something so ineffectual in nature.  Or  C.) Was I just a big pussy? After much "babble" I did see themes appear, but still I did not hit "publish" in real time and besides my friend Concetta suggested I look into Word Press instead of Blogspot as it has more options for creativity further down the line. That, of course was months ago and I have not looked into Word Press - and here I sit... a pussy who won't hit publish.

I am, one might say, a bit of a procrastinator, point being I haven't made any New Year's Resolution as of yet........That being said I think its time to step up to the plate and that my New Year's Resolution should be two-fold A.) to no longer procrastinate and B.) to not be a pussy and hit publish!!!!!!!!!!! Because time does not stand still...so what in the hell am I waiting for???? If Laura Linney can produce such a brave performance night after night why in the hell can't I publish a little Betty Blog????

Summer 2009 – I have to go back, before I can go forward.

“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:  Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”  - William Shakespeare

Tweet, Twitter, Twit….Rockin Robin. Boy am I feeling my age or maybe I am dreaming, but somehow a technological tornado came to town and blew off the glass ceiling and I am not in Kansas anymore.  I’ve eavesdropped on enough coffee klatsch conversations at many a Starbucks in the tri-state area.  As I sit there trying to enjoy my over-priced venti ½ caf ½ decaf (I’ve reached that age where too much caffeine makes me crazy) non-fat latte, the conversations filter through my consciousness.  I hear snippets of chat, babble, gab involving grand ideas of hometown folk putting their “thoughts” out there into “cyberspace” to share with the “world.”  These thoughts make me wanna release streams of thick steamed non-fat skim foam from my nostrils….who do these people think they are? And…why do they think their lives are so damned important? And why am I doing this and who do I think I am anyway????

A little over a year a ago, I was laid off (hence the allotment allowed for daily caffeine stake-outs) but let’s be real here… the “BOSS” that I worked for couldn’t wait for the day to send me on my way. AND let’s just say that she was the worst boss I’ve ever had in my life (and I’ve had a lot of bosses thus far.) My blood pressure went from normal to rooftop heights. On my drive into work every morning I’d begin to feel a wave of nausea for the dirty-blond Cruella Deville boss lady from hell and I'd have to fight the urge to pull over, open my door and heave out all the bile that was boiling up inside me. This BS  job was eating away at me. It was never anything I had hoped or asked for, but at the time it seemed like a nice financial break from past paychecks in the non-profit arts sector.

One beautiful summer day, I go to my friend Mia’s house in the country. I relish the change of scenery and greenery that is way off Interstate 95’s path.  I feel a breath of fresh air as I head in the direction of a road less traveled. Mia’s family, aka “The Fam” (I adore them), is in town from Maryland. We are sipping vodka tonics on the veranda (not to be confused with Miranda, that is Mia’s oldest daughter) while looking over the majestic valley below and catching up on life. They give their condolences regarding the job and we put our heads together and brainstorm about which path I should take next. Soon the conversation sways to blogging. I cringe (I feel so technologically challenged). The Fam (I love them) continues carrying on about blogging and how I should be blogging, because blah, blah, blah…footnote there was vodka involved, a booze-fest of sorts, however, I do feel very blessed to have such supportive folks in my life.

They go on and on, through the vodka-hazed sunset, about blogging and me.  I thrive on the encouragement, but do not want to seem too eager.  I throw in my two cents about me just being an ordinary Betty who is trying to fight the good fight on a daily basis. Who wants to get by with her (from time to time) red head held high above her blood alcohol level. Who holds onto her proverbial buoy as if it were a martini olive. If I let go, splash, I’m in over my head. I also state the obvious “who would listen to me? and “what to I really have to say, anyway?” The Fam sends me beams of encouragement from across the table and I think, “these people have only my best interest in mind.”  Perhaps they are onto something.  Maybe I should quiet the voices in my head, stop and smell the vodka and take note. In my V&T cloudy mind, I make a mental note to myself to look into this thing called blogging. I hope I can remember this note-to-myself in the morning.

                                                                                   

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