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Hypothetically Blogging

I’ve got it! Monday Mental Meanderings. This is my new feature. It replaces Monday Middle-aged Musings, which I have mentioned I don’t particularly like. But who could dislike mental meanderings? Oh, I suppose somebody could. Well, that unpleasant hypothetical person does not have to read this.

Here’s a contradiction I just noticed about myself. I hate hypothetical questions yet I constantly have conversations with hypothetical critics. I say they are imaginary conversations (usually arguments) with people in my head (or is that conversations in my head with imaginary people?), but I’m pretty sure they are also hypothetical. Wait a minute. I was just about to embark on a diatribe against hypothetical questions when it occurred to me that I may have already published such a thing. A pause while I check.

A cursory check of past posts revealed nothing. So I continue. I hate hypothetical questions because they usually assume the impossible. “Your house is on fire. All family and pets are saved. You have time to go back and save one object. What do you save?” That’s RIDICULOUS! You don’t go back into a burning house and save one object! That’s asking for death! “Yeah,” says the questioner, “but if you could?”

“YOU CAN’T!!!” I repeat.

Then there’s my favorite (I can’t believe I never put this in a blog post before, but I don’t mind repeating myself): “If you could invite any three people, living or dead to dinner, who would you invite?” For God’s sake, I can’t invite three people who live in this town to dinner and count on them all being able to make it on the same night, never mind the Nobel prize winners or movie stars people usually answer this question with. However, my answer to the question is, “I would invite three dead people, because they wouldn’t eat too much. They also wouldn’t talk too much. It is a well-known fact that dead men tell no tales.”

BUT, one may argue, what if somebody asked you a hypothetical question that did NOT assume the impossible?

Waaaait a minute! Did a hypothetical person just ask me a hypothetical question? I just told you, Homey don’t play that!

Here is a non-hypothetical question: What does anybody think about Monday Mental Meanderings?

You Could Have Saved Me Some Brownies

I do not have rehearsal tonight. One might think that this is my golden opportunity to write a “real” blog post (please note the correct use of quotation marks). One who is familiar with Mohawk Valley Girl will know how unlikely that is, especially on a Tired Tuesday.

I am back on overtime at work. How I love overtime. Working a ten hour day gives me a good excuse to slack on everything else. Oh I know, you probably worked a 12 hour day, stopped at the store, shoveled the driveway, cleaned the house, did three loads of laundry, cooked dinner and baked brownies from scratch. You probably also don’t have time to watch television, but I bet you know who was the last person to get laid, killed, engaged, gossiped about or voted off on whatever show everybody is watching this season.

Yes, when I am tired I have arguments with imaginary people who scorn my life.

My job is really not that onerous. I don’t mind going to work. I am grateful for my job and the overtime. Sometimes I even manage to write a blog post while working a ten hour day. Not, however, when I am in a play. We have two more rehearsals and then WE OPEN!!! That’s THIS FRIDAY NIGHT!!! I spent most of my breaks studying my lines. I used the part of my brain not needed for my job to think about my character. I must, I positively must be ready!

So, sorry about the Tired Tuesday blog post. And sorry in advance for Wuss-out Wednesday and Non-Sequitur Thursday. As we all know, I will offer no apologies for Lame Post Friday. I hope I still have readers by then.

But just to give the play another plug (that’s probably really why I’m so tired, but who can analyze these things?): Busybody at Ilion Little Theatre, 13 Remington Ave., Ilion, NY. Jan. 30, 31, Feb. 1, 6, 7, 8; 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 1 p.m. Sundays. For more information visit the website at You can also like Ilion Little Theatre Club on Facebook.

At Least I Wrote Something

So there I was, having Wrist to Forehead Saturday. A full blown case, too. Oh, I was being pathetic. It was embarrassing. The thing was I could. Not. Write. A. Thing.

I had a lovely Mohawk Valley adventure to write about. Failing that, I had taken not one but two walks with my schnoodle, Tabby. Always acceptable for a Saturday post. I understand the Write It Anyways philosophy. I got out my notebook. I found a pen. I wrote a sentence and scribbled it out. I could not think of an alternative.

“This NEVER happens to me!” I wailed. I had wailed it about thirty-eight times (in my head, of course; I didn’t want to scare the dog), before a little voice in my head said, “Don’t be silly; it happens to you all the time. That’s why you have so damn many lame posts.”

Well, I believe my theme yesterday was “Things Happen.” Or, as the case may be, Things Don’t Happen. In this case, writing the post I had intended to write is not going to happen.

In the alternative, let us briefly consider the Write It Anyways philosophy. I know, half-baked philosophy is for Lame Post Friday. However, since some do not consider this philosophy half-baked, I will make bold to compose a paragraph or two. For one thing, I do not want today to be the first day in over a year and a half that I don’t make a blog post.

Most professional writers acknowledge that you can’t wait for inspiration to strike. If you wait till you are “in the mood” to write, you will write very little. Indeed, I have found in my own experience that most of the time, if I just pick up the pen (or pencil, or put my fingers on the keyboard, if we must be literal as well as literary), words will appear.

Oh, it’s fun when they do. One of my favorite things is, it gets so they appear more easily and regularly. It’s true! Since I’ve been writing the blog, I do spend less time staring at a blank piece of paper. I spend less time staring into space thinking about writing. It’s kind of like running: the more you do it, the more you are able to do it (no, I haven’t started running again, let’s not open THAT can of worms!).

Um, slight disclaimer here: unlike running, it is not as easy to be good at writing. If I keep putting my feet down on the ground one after the other, I will get someplace and I will get there increasingly quicker or go increasingly further. If I put more words on the paper, I will be able to put increasingly more words on the paper, but that does not mean they will be any more interesting for others to read.

Case in point: this post.

On the other hand, if I start to worry about my every every word being deathless prose, I will surely write fewer words. The write-it-and-scribble-it-out disease happens because there is that voice in my head saying, “That’s not good enough” (I’m not sure if it’s the same voice that said, “It happens to you all the time,” but it’s a pretty good bet). Today I said to myself, “It doesn’t have to be brilliant, it just has to be written.”

And now I have written over 500 words. It might be foolish, but it is a blog post. I’ll work on making it brilliant tomorrow. And I will write about our trip to the Capitol Theatre in Rome, NY for a screening of Rear Window (preview of coming attractions). Um, I’m not promising that will be brilliant, but I’ll work on it.

I Suppose It Actually Is Friday

Really, Wednesday was my Friday this week, but I didn’t post lame then, so I thought, “Hey! I can have Lame Post Friday today!”

As soon as I wrote that, I felt sure that some pedantic person out there is saying, “Stop with the ‘my Friday,’ ‘Not Really Friday’ already! Wednesday is Wednesday! Friday is Friday! And nobody wants to read your lame posts anyways!”

OK, it’s not some generic pedantic person out there, it is one of the many critics in my head. The fact is I don’t have a damn thing to write about and I want to make this post so I can get on to the sitting on the couch watching cheesy movies portion of my day. Well, that’s not really true. I have a few subjects, but the fact is I have not written about them.

“So write about them now!” says the little voice in my head that thinks everything is just so easy. The bastard.

Sometimes the act of writing begets more writing. You get just one sentence or phrase or even word down on the paper and others follow. Some days, not so much. You get one word. Gritting your teeth, you make it a phrase. Straining to keep your fingers from the backspace button, you make it a sentence. Then the little voice in your head says, “Nobody wants to read that crap!”

And that’s where I’m at now. Seriously, I just erased three sentences before leaving “And that’s where I’m at now.”

Earlier I went up the attic and found our Christmas CDs. Before that I was at Hannaford, where I purchased some Bigelow Oolong Tea, of which I am sipping a cup. It tastes so good, I wish I could write a whole blog post just on that. Mostly I wish I could just sit and sip it and enjoy the GRP Christmas Collection which is currently playing.

And really, why not (stand by for a foray into a Middle-aged Musing)? It is the Friday of my four day weekend. Yesterday was a holiday. I worked hard all last week and weekend. I am now going to relax.

And tomorrow I will write a better blog post for your delectation. I hope.

Best Lame Plans

It is not easy to write when you have a raging sinus headache.

My original plan was to write two posts on Thursday. Then Friday after work I would have only to hit “Publish,” and Steven and I could be off on our Mohawk Valley adventures.

Well, Thursday, I found out that it is not easy to write when you are dreadfully nauseous and laboring under strong emotions. Thursday’s post, in case you couldn’t tell, was composed at the computer with not a whole lot of time expended. Believe it or not, a great deal of thought was expended. It just didn’t seem to do me much good.

Fast forward to Friday (today) (oh, wouldn’t we Monday to Friday workers LOVE to be able to do just that). I was determined to write something that I could hurry home and just type in. After all, how hard could it be? It’s Lame Post Friday!

A little voice in my head is saying, “Cindy. Isn’t it time you stopped this obsession of posting every day? It was all very well for the first year, but now how many times a week are you craving people’s indulgence for another dumb post? Shouldn’t you be going for quality over quantity?”

To that voice I say, “Oh, do be quiet. Why can’t you say something interesting, like the voices in other people’s heads? Maybe something involving aliens and a tin foil hat.” I think I would look rather fetching in a tin foil hat. I wonder if it would do anything to alleviate the headache.

Lame Attempts

So there I was at work, writing a blog post titled “Dithering over the DARE.” I am, of course, a past master of dithering. And then I didn’t like it.

I had intended to go running after work, despite the tremendous humidity, so I thought I might write about that. I even had a title picked out, “Oh, the Humidity.” You know, like that guy said, “Oh, the humanity!” during the Hindenberg disaster. Or is that being flippant about a tragedy? Could be, but I have several times seen and heard “Oh the humanity” used with ironic intent, so I think it is OK. But when I sat down at the computer, nothing.

I thought, “I can’t do ANOTHER post about not having anything to write about.” Then I thought, “Sure I can. It’s Lame Post Friday; I can do whatever I want.”

The reason I could not finish writing the first post is that I felt certain any number of people would tell me to stop being such a whiny baby or to quit rationalizing or some other rude, superior thing the people in my head can always come up with. I tend to spend a lot of time having imaginary conversations with people who criticize everything I do, say or think. In fact, as I write this, I can picture some snotty writer telling me I MUST silence the inner critic or I’ll NEVER be a writer. And somebody else telling me to quit complaining about it.

Huh. I bet neither one of them are published either.

And now I don’t like this post either. You know, I’m just not messing with it today. I’ll say something concrete instead: I was dithering about the DARE 5K because I have not been training as hard as I had intended to. Also, my running partner and cheering section have defected. After work today, I ran up the steep hill that is part of the DARE 5K course, in the steamy humidity. I made it, and the way back down was distinctly pleasant, what with gravity and the breeze picking up.

I think this has been the lamest Friday post yet. I don’t know whether to feel proud or sheepish. I’ll compromise on silly. See you Saturday.