Saturday, September 1, 2007

Blogging, Coffee, and Women

Funny thing about blogging. Women in general can get together at a cafe or in a front room and share a cup of coffee and talk for hours on end. Or put most women on a telephone and you might as well go fishing (if you are a man) cause that conversation will last until the sun comes up the next day. Put a woman writer in front of a computer and the words flow like butter over hot pancakes. However, put a woman in front of a computer and say the dreaded word "Blog" and suddenly the ideas stop, the words cease, fingers freeze, and no matter the haircolor of the woman she suddenly becomes (dare I say it) Dumb.
Now, I know many women who are very articulate when they blog - articulate, funny, clever and intelligent.
Maybe I should change that beginning paragraph to "Put me in front of a computer and say the dreaded word "Blog" and suddenly my ideas stop, my words cease, my fingers freeze, and I become Dumb. (of course I have an excuse - I'm blonde -- yes I can say that and you can't cause I am blond and have heard and memorized all most all of the dumb blond jokes - you know I might blog about that one day -- if I can remember)
Why is it people who write for a living have such a hard time writing something in a blog???
My main problem is that my real life is super boring. I am a caregiver and a writer and the local taxi for a town of only 150 people (I have one of the few working cars). My life consists of feeding tubes, changing briefs, sponge baths, fanciful writing on my novel, listening to drug addicts who need to get to court and people beg for a ride into town to buy groceries, and driving along 50 miles of freeway one way with nothing more interesting than sage brush and big trucks. I live in the middle of the desert 50 miles from everywhere. To get to a doctor or to a store is 50 miles.
I suppose I could blog about the lizard that sits all say long on our bathroom screen soaking up the cool air from the swamp cooler. Or the cat that sits all day in front of the fan. Or the chickens that sit all day under the porch where it is cooler. Or....well you get the point. Summer is 121 degrees with 50-75% humidity. Moving is a chore. Winter is cooler, sort of.
My point, writers write because they have a rich exciting life behind their eyes, not in front of them. I do not know of anyone who lives the life you see on tv who writes about it. There seems to be a divination between those that write and those that live it.
Well, I guess I just blogged about my life. But it would be easier if I had a bunch of women and some coffee to bounce my ideas off of. See you next time.

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