Ahaha I know right? What a funny title. As if there could be anything new about a blogger. Well. Let’s see. I was a born blogger. Writing endlessly within contexts that were private but I kind of wished they’d be read, usually by very specific people (or types of people).
The perfect medium for people who like using stream of consciousness (Hemingway stuff, high school stuff from many, too many years ago), and for those, like me, who tend to change their minds very very often. Instead, it has become a medium mostly of people pretending to be journalists, people writing about a single topic, or people showcasing their talent. Very useful of course, but the latter two have become so mainstream, and people now sneer at blogs that are what they used to be best: private (or not) diaries. Also, I have nothing to showcase I’m afraid.
I have come through an epiphany lately, and must express it, squeeze the juice out of it. So, as has often been the case in this blog, I shall write as I please and people are free to leave.
I realised today, as I drove my hired car to the airport to drop off my son for a few days in a very cool astronomy camp and then to stay with my sister for a bit, that in a relatively short while my boys will be out of the house.
A big part of my epiphany was how much of an unpleasant person I can be (as pointed out repeatedly by my long-suffering husband) and I realised that the boys were two of the very few people who knew me very well, had lived with me for years, had therefore suffered through my swinging between nice and ugly person, and still seemed to like me. What will happen to me when they’re gone?
My husband loves me very much, but barely tolerates me. I have worn him down. My daughter adores me right now, and she says how it’s never my fault, nothing anybody says is right when they say I ever did anything wrong. It’s touching and breaks my heart, but it’s a six-year old talking. At some point she’ll reach puberty and all hell will be unleashed (or not! Hope is the last to perish).
I need dialogue like I need air, but the circumstances I have created for myself, the people I’ve chosen, work and social commitment types, prevent that. So, monologue it is.