I was told by “my people” that I have to blog more often.
Well, what if I don’t feel like it?
What if I don’t have anything to say that’s worth saying?
Doesn’t this just become a job? Like work. Stressful, and contrived. Something that is forced, and no one will want to read…because it’s not really anything I want to say?
So, I am not going to blog when I don’t feel like blogging. I’m not.
So shut the fuck up, people. You are not the boss of me.
Or are you? ;)
Do you, my loyal readers have more control over me now….than I think?
It’s funny, when I started this blogging thing…I just wrote how I felt, and I never thought anyone would care. Or actually read it. But now, I walk into bars and people stop me. They actually stop me, and ask if “I’m that girl”. haha. Omg. Ya, ya. It’s me. The crazy bitch who talks about my Brazilian wax-job, and my PMS meds. It’s ME! And they look at me all funny and shit. Like I’d have to be out of my mind. And especially down here in the South. And especially because most of these peeps don’t “know” me here, in Charlotte. It’s not like back in Detroit, where most people really know me, know me. And my family totally gets this… well, they at least get me. They know I’m real. And a good mom. And mean well. And I’m not some psycho-chick, out for a buck.
Here in the South, the deepest-deep South…we are in the Bible Belt. And I don’t really fit in so well. My big mouth, my bad attitude, and my bite. I say what I want to say, when I want to say it…but I try to adjust to my audience. Ya know, I don’t throw the f-bomb at Ferryboat. (that’s our school carpool) And when I’m teaching dance, I don’t tell my 8 year olds they have a “bitching split leap”. I’ve been told I have no filters. I’m impulsive, and over-the-top. I wear my heart on my sleeve. And I would give you the shirt off my back. But I tend to scare the shit out of these Southerners. And I’m pretty sure, some of these ladies are just wondering what I’m going to say next. So, this blog has become kinda a place to let my hair down. To explode! Say what I want to say…whenever I want to say it. Maybe say the things I can’t say in real life? lol. My girlfriends are laughing so hard right now. Like I’ve ever held back? Or not said how I’ve felt? Yeesh.
But now at least, you as the reader, have the choice to listen to my mouth. People can do what they want. You are in control. Stop if you don’t like what I have to say. Or keep going if you do! In fact, I’ve gotten messages asking for certain subjects. I love it! You have opinions, I want to hear them. Chime in, write me. Post comments. Engage, all y’all. Don’t be afraid to open a little post-blog forum. I would love to have some good Truth Talks! How fun would that be. OMG I just thought of that. I need to get with my peeps. You know, I am totally revamping the site. Big things in the works. I’m having blog-envy. I’m looking at other people’s blogs lately and getting jealous. There’s are bigger, and prettier. They have fancy-schmancy buttons to push, and widgets to take you to new places. Wowza. Mine sucks the big one. Pun intended. But I did it all by myself, which was kinda a big deal for me, coming out of a 13 year marriage where I didn’t even write a check, or change a light bulb. Or buy a lamp without asking permission. Totally fucked up, I know. But now…I have a BLOG. And it’s all mine. Mine, mine.. mine.
So, The Truth Hurvitz is going big. Well, bigger. And I’m going to have new colors, and a new logo! And a landing page. Not to be confused with a “landing strip”. That was the last blog. It’s time to take this shit to the next level, and it’s all because of YOU… my kick-ass readers! See the control you have? Well, I’m letting you think you have the control. Truth be told, I still have it. I have control issues. And blog envy. And I clearly have space issues as well. I like to snuggle after sex, but then I need the guy to move the fuck over to his side of the bed. MOOOVE over, mister. You are so taking up my space. And you are sweaty. And breathing on me. So move. Control issues, blog envy…space problems. ha. I am totally all over the place today. I should up my meds. Or stop eating pumpkin donuts. I have had 2 already and it’s like noon. Shit.
So, next time I’m in the Apple Store at the mall, and one of the “Apple team members” asks me if I am the girl from “that blog”, I’m not going to be mortified. I am not going to ask how in Goddess’s name does he know it’s me? And I am notgoing to cringe when he says he found my blog-card up on a board in Starbucks….and he loves the one about the mother in laws. I am simply going to say, “Thank you, I’m glad you liked it. Keep on reading!” And then, I’m going to hold my head high, and remember I brought this shit on myself. I may not be Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City, but dammit…I always dreamed of being Samantha anyways. She was so much sexier, had a mouth like a sailor, and way more my style. With control issues to boot. ;)