My year of blogging dangerously

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Few people realize the dangers involved in blogging. Since I started one year ago, I wake up with more wrinkles that I ever had before. My dentist has capped one tooth and filled another with the contents of my bank account. My teaching schedule has gone from sitting on the beach watching the waves roll in to watching sharks circle around me as I thrash and call for help to a lifeguard who is busy talking on his cell phone. Gas prices have gone up 45 cents and reality TV has not gone away. Thirteen full moons have appeared since I started blogging, something that happens only once in a blue moon. The coffee pot at work broke and in this past year, no classes were cancelled due to snow. Had I known then what I know now, I would have been clairvoyant. And had I married someone with the name Voyant, I would have named my first child, Clare.

 

 

But be that as it wasn’t and won’t be, I think I would have still started blogging. I’ve made friends with several gravatars, discovered a lot of great blogs, been mightily encouraged by people who don’t have real names, and been mistaken for a truck blog: year’s truck. My ice orchid has bloomed not once, but twice this year, something I attribute to the blogging. The orchid sits beside me as I type, patiently listening as I read my words aloud.

 

 

Starting the blog, dragging my words out to the curb, and putting up the “For Free” sign scared me. If I’m honest, it still does. But the blogging has helped me bloom in my own way. I dress up my words, wash behind their ears, and send them out. Sometimes they are well received and sometimes not, but at least they’re not hanging around the house complaining that they are bored. Now they can go out into the world and do the boring.

 

 

This past year I wrote about a time in high school when I had an overdue library book. I received a note with just my name and the title of the book on it. The book was Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. That note still describes me well, but now that I am opening up as a typist and almost writer, I feel like a blooming idiot.

 

 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your year of reading dangerously.

My ice orchid’s second blooming

45 thoughts on “My year of blogging dangerously

  1. You still keep a tidy desk.. I love your humour, your honesty and your amazing writing! I still am hoping for a book…I could say I didn’t know her when…but I knew her writing.

  2. I have enjoyed your writing and your….ummm….unconventional wit. (Hey, that’s better than being witless, isn’t it?) Love your attacks on the English language and especially your wonderful vacation (with the pidgeons!) that allowed me to enjoy the locations without paying my fare. When I went on a real vacation this year, my exuberant neighbor watered my orchid every day and of course, it died. Perhaps you can resuscitate so it’s as beautiful as yours?

    • Kate, I have enjoyed your writing since I found your blog, even those voyeuristic posts about your backyard residents. (Note to comment readers: You’ll have to go her blog and search the archives!)

  3. You dress your words so beautifully they deserve a fashion runway of their own. Congratulations on your very successful first year. Here is to many more!

    • This spring two stems sprouted. When I tried to clip them on the sticks, one of them broke. I almost cried. The surviving stem produced 9 blooms. Then a month or so ago, I noticed a new stem. Maybe all that energy from the broken one had lain dormant and had to burst forth. It’s possible, of course, that the second stem and second blooming have nothing to do with the broken one, but it comforts my heart to think it was reborn.

  4. Congrats, YS, and happy birthday to your blog! I hope this next year is even more fruitful and maybe a little bit fearless. You are a wonderful writer, a lovely person, and an amazing talent. I can’t wait to see what you do next!

  5. “but at least they’re not hanging around the house complaining that they are bored. Now they can go out into the world and do the boring.” – 😉

    Congratulations and thank you for a year of delighting, enticing and informing us with your wonderful, thoughtful and well-written words, ms. yearstricken. Indeed, just a while ago, you wrote how the year just changed without so much as an ado or prior notice. Time really has a way of swinging by and leaving us breathless and much baffled than before. ^^

    It was dangerous, yes. But what a ride… Keep writing, ma’am. Kind regards, as always 😉 🙂

  6. Well, I’m always late to the party,but I wish you congratulations as well. I’m very glad you have decided to live dangerously and write for all the world to see, It’s been a true pleasure to dip into your blog posts and experience your writing. I’m looking forward to what comes next.

  7. Congratulations, my dear yearstricken, on a year of blogging. I love your blog, and love your writing, and each post is a pleasure for me. Reading is not dangerous… it’s the easiest thing in the world, for we all have built in filters, and make our own choices about what we’re willing to expose ourselves to… and what we’re willing to deal with. But in writing, we sometimes open doors and windows that expose some of the most private and sensitive parts of our souls. And so, writing can be ‘living dangerously’, and I consider you a true writer; who often touches one of those universal threads that wind their way through many of us. I’m grateful to have found you, and I wish you many more years of blogging.

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