Em and the Possibilities There are no guarantees in life…only the possibilities

Hi, howareya? I’m Emily, and I’m a Sporadic Blogger.

(Hi, Emily!)

So here’s the thing: I’m DOING a lot of stuff (like redorkerating the house, hanging clothes on a line to dry, working, managing the boredom of The Progeny).

And I want to write about it, I really do.

(And I AM going to write about the redorkerating. Pinky-sweah. And about the garden that ultimately wasn’t this year. Eventually.)

But when I sit down to write, the words won’t come. Or they WILL come, but the post ends up sounding like a to-do list. A Done list.

A list.

(Not A-list though.)

I did have to work through a blogging thing. I’m not, nor will I ever be, a Big Name Blogger. And I’m OK with that. I don’t “do” social networking the way they do; I’ve always been the kid in the corner with a book. (And I don’t allow advertising on this site anymore. I’ll plug products I use and believe in, but I’m not giving an advertising network (or ANYone, for that matter) permission to come in and say whatever they want.)

But… It’s really frustrating to see these “big name” bloggers burst on the scene and have piles of STUFF ™ tossed at them.

Exotic vacations. Electronics. Entire kitchens.

Really?

I’ve been sporadically writing since 2003. I pulled myself out of PPD, agorophobia, and got my anxiety under control. I became a full-time student, went back to work, sat through my childrens’ diagnoses, lost a ton of weight (I can’t tell you how much – I didn’t own a scale back then), learned to splice my water main, learned to lay laminate flooring, buried my Daddy, sporadically dated, painted, bought furniture, learned the fine art of toilet repair, bought my first vehicle without my Daddy, became a homeowner.

And no, I haven’t talked about a lot of these things. Not at length, anyway.

I go through them. I come out the other side. WE come out the other side. And then move on.

Some of it was excruciating to go through; I don’t want to relive it by writing about it. I look back at some of my earliest posts and it makes my heart hurt.

I kind-of remember that woman, how confused and hormonal and flat-out scared she was.

She’s not me though. Not anymore. (I still get scared though).

And in this fit of blogging jealousy, I wonder: If this blog was commercialized, would I still feel like I could write like this? Or would it be an awkward soap-opera product placement moment where the heroine is crying over the unfairness of it all and asks for her BigNameBrand tissues? Would I feel obligated to link to the Big Box Store that I get my DIY supplies when I posted “Hey, I redorkerated my dining room with help from Big Box Store and WHOMP thereitis”?

(Because I’d rather encourage you to go to your local store first and see what they have. )

And I wonder if I had a super-spiffy FaceBook page (because FaceBook stuck where other social networks didn’t in my ability to socialize)…I wonder if that would magically bring tickets and building supplies and electronics and STUFF ™ to my world.

And I wonder if I had a “better” somehow “more cool” domain name, if that would bring people.

It never occurred to me to consider myself as a brand, for heaven’s sake.

Brands are NOT PEOPLE.