I didn’t mean this to sound so sad.  I’m attempting to do my taxes for the first time totally by myself.  They’re complicated.  My damn accountant was angry at me last year for sending him my audit during tax season.  Well duh that’s when I got it and it was due 30 days later.  He let it sit for months.  The tax thing is complicating everything in my life right now.  My Dad was a CPA who would have never been angry at a client for….My dad died suddenly at the end of this month 19 years ago.  These couple of weeks always make me sad and trying to do taxes, uh!!!!!

I fear that someday, not soon I hope, I will die and not leave a legacy; no permanent marker, except for a headstone in Mount Hebron Cemetery that reminds the world I was here once.

People will argue that is selfish to want to be remembered.  That if I wanted to be remembered I should have had children for parents did something important.  But not all children are worthy of being remembered by their parents and parents, sometimes, very sadly, outlive children.

Then of course there’s the career legacy.  As somebody who has had three and a half careers, a bunch of newspaper articles published and a five and a half year old blog, I can be remembered for knowing that one career wasn’t enough for a lifetime long before that was fashionable to think.  But many other people can lay claim to that thought also.

They can’t all lay claim to saying some of the things I have said in this blog at the time I did, and I made sure to put in original thoughts. In the 70′s and 80′s before the era of instant communication and social networking,  my sister claimed a New York Times reporter was following me around recording my every thought.  For I would say something and a month or three later an article would be in The Times with the very same thought and/or lines.

I had no faith in myself then.  No belief that I could write for such a newspaper or write an entire book.

Now I’m not sure I can market myself properly.  Just writing this seems so egotistical.  Yet what are most bloggers, Facebookers, and Twitterers doing but trying to make a mark on the world so that they will leave a legacy?  A lot of money is good too.

I have friends who will be remembered for their careers.  Their writing. Their wit.  Their skill and talents in other areas.  And their spouses, kids, grandkids and I’m beginning to feel very small in statute.  I want what they have.  I can’t have the kids and grandkids, that’s impossible and probably not the adoring spouse, but the career….Of course I’m convinced I’m becoming demented so I probably have about two good writing months left…..

For awhile I think I thought I could leave a legacy as a blogger.  It was different three, four years ago.  When you were known, many bloggers knew you.  There weren’t thousands of different groups all competing for bloggers and fame.  There was competitiveness, of course, everything is.  But we knew we were in the earlier days of something bigger then ourselves something that could change communication.  Then came Twitter.   It’s all too much for me.

Friends are having grandchildren.  I’m glad for them, so excited sometimes you have no idea, but a bit sad for me as I will never know that feeling.

My book is that most egotistical of genres, a memoir, but I do think I have a more interesting than most story to tell. One I won’t go into here as everybody who reads this blog knows it.  If you know me through Facebook you don’t really know it.

You don’t know that I’m much more than a collection of symptoms.  Hey, I met John Gotti and lived to talk about it.  That will always be one of my favorite stories sick as it is and it’s very sick.  It’s me, girl who couldn’t keep her Marilyn dress from doing a Marilyn.  In my memories I have short blond hair, and big red lips.  In reality I had long red hair done 40′s style or maybe I had cut it recently to just shoulder length with volume but not big–it was the last year of the 80′s.  My lips might have been red but they were never big.

That’s not one of my best stories just one of my favorites.  I don’t know what my best stories are.  I have no way of judging my own work.  I no longer have any semblance of a site meter so I have no way of gauging what pages are peoples favorites.

I did that on purpose.  The whole get-to-love-me-through-social-media frenzy sickened me.  I had come early to the party.  Too early as I didn’t realize I was supposed to have a plan, enough energy to spend the hours I wasn’t exercising or writing on social media activities.  I had done that with blogging solely because I’m obsessive and I was burnt out as I burn out of everything.

I’m vain.  Oh so vain I think the story of not knowing I had non verbal learning disorder and living anyway is a good story.  I spent my late teen, 20′s and 30′s being adorable, looking like a generic soap star, and I worked hard.  I confused my bosses who couldn’t understand that the spacey klutzy but adorable girl did such complex excellent work.

Then I broke down.  Though I did brilliantly in social work school I don’t think my work ever equaled the work I did in my 20′s to 37.  Maybe it was the medication.  More likely it was still not knowing what was wrong with me and being more aware since I broke down, had the testing, and found out I was supposed to be incapable of just about everything.  I had always believed in myself before underneath it all.  Always believed that tomorrow I would understand more.  Tomorrow there would be magical answers.

The answers weren’t magical.  There was some relief in knowing at first but then there was anger.  I’m still working it out.  And that’s the problem.  A book needs a happy or tragic ending and I don’t plan on giving it a tragic ending.  I want the happy one.

My life is good.  Very good.  But is buying, all on my own without help from one person, a house, and almost gut renovating it a good enough ending?  Even if girl has problems that should preclude her from being proud of this?

Is girl coming to a city where she knew almost anybody at a stage in life when almot nobody moves except unhappily for a job or for grandchildren, and forging a life for herself, a happy ending?

Actually now that I read the above two paragraphs I realize that it’s just as happy an ending as girl meets boy.  This hasn’t been Ozzie & Harriet’s world for sometime.

Or maybe I’m being defensive.  And what I think are accomplishments are nothing important really.

I have met the most wonderful bloggers over the past five years five months.  Though I complain about the comments that tired me of this, I have been the recipient of more incredible comments than any person has a right to receive.  I thank you all.

I  can’t do this anymore.  I write because I love to write but writing is the least of blogging.  I can’t focus on writing for publication when as a blogger I’m supposed to find “followers,” a word I hate as it sounds as if the follower should be holding my dress up.  I couldn’t care less about my Alexa ranking.  I lost my Google page rank “5″ then got it back then lost it.  Too confusing.   I could never understand Google Analytics and leave that to the people who want to monetize their blogs.

According to Technorati, I have an authority of “1.”  That would be  an audience of one–me I think and is impossible but…I only looked because a friend looked at his.  He still has a Technorati ranking.

I enjoy commenting on Facebook and a few blogs.  I can’t spend hours a day reading and commenting on blogs.  3WW a word exercise I love took me over twelve hours, to both read other blogs and comment on them,  and I wrote my post in 20 minutes.  There’s no enjoyment or payback in that. (I love some of the blogs but the time spent….)  If I were to do three or four word exercises it would take 36-48 hours out of my week.  That’s a lot of writing I can be doing.

Something else–there are so many blogging groups and associations my head spins just thinking about them.  Blogging has become too big for me.  Should I spend money going to blogging conferences?

I can’t blog for Blog Critics, Technorati, to name a few and as I keep mentioning also write for real publication.  And real publication, to me, has to mean something that pays actual money and not pennies.

People in other professions don’t give everything away.  I know! I know!  Anybody can write.  And that’s true now.  Anybody who has access to a computer can put words to screen.  But do you want to read them all?

I will be keeping Courting going and weeding out “bad” posts.  So people who care about things like Technorati don’t have to worry about losing my pitiful–I don’t even know what to call it.

I realize that I’m going against the grain and that I’m probably committing blogging hari kari.  But anybody who knows me knows I’ve done that before.

I wish I could say it has been fun.  I rue the day I found blog explosion and an audience though I wouldn’t trade the friends I have made….Even more I rue doing political blogging.  That’s something best left to people who really don’t care about creative writing and I care very much.

Political blogging is best left to thick skinned people who enjoy getting comments telling them they’re mentally ill etc.

So I guess I’m starting from the beginning.

With a blog yet blogless, I leave it to all the people who love having pictures of people they might never ever have actually exchanged an email with on their blog theme. (The followers)

I will be writing more than ever.  Just not here.  If I change my mind and anybody who knows me knows I’m prone to that, please remind me that six years ago I was being published regularly.  Major publications were asking me to re-submit.

Then I began a blog…..Nobody had heard of them.  All my friends made fun of me but at first for a few months I loved it.   I did.  Then the nasty comments began and the fun ended.

I’m sorry if I sound like a spoiled bitch but I’m so tired of the blogging world.

This ad ended it for me.  Just did.  It was so crassly commercial.  Most people who take that course won’t make two cents on a dollar expended for the course.

I wrote a truly long post because I began as a long winded self-absorbed blogger.  I’m going through the blog one post at a time.  Not a fun project, but I must do it.  Again I thank Cooper the magnificent.

Courting’s undergone and still undergoing major retuning.

Last week I watched Julie and Julia.  I’ve never been a Meryl person.  I have always appreciated her brilliance but many of her performances have left me feeling nothing.  I watched Mama Mia with eyes and mouth wide open amazed that she would subject herself to that role when I seriously doubt she needs money and her kids aren’t in the pivotal ten to fourteen year old range that would love the movie.  Abba is a band that has always reminded me of the worst of pop.  No it’s not even pop.

Her performance was a revelation.  She not just captured Julia Child but made me love her.  Stanley Tucci!  Wow. He made a little, ugly to be honest, man into one of the sexiest men I have ever seen.  I was captivated.

I have read a lot about how Julie’s (Amy Adams) story was horrible but I’m a blogger and in some ways it could have been my story.  These are the exceptions:  Amanda Hesser of The Times went to her house for dinner.   The book taken from the blog  turned into a best seller.  The subsequent movie was one of the top movies of the year.  And she wrote a new memoir about the affairs she was having during that time that did almost ruin the movie for me as she and her husband seemed so solidly together.

Oh yes we have so much in common.

When I began Courting I didn’t realize people read blogs.  She knew more, and knew enough to have a theme but at first didn’t know if anybody was reading. When her husband read that she was the third most read blog at Salon, they called the people “fans.”  When I became the most read blog at that place we don’t talk about it I called the people who read “readers.”

She felt obligated to post everyday.  My readers know my verbal diarrhea though it has tapered off. Somebody from The Christian Science Monitor called her.  Somebody called me.  You can see we have a tremendous amount in common. She was coming up to her 30′s.  I was in that place called “used to be 30something when it was on.”

It’s not that I’m ashamed of my age.  I’m just so darn immature that I have a hard time believing I’m going to be 60.  Therefore all my friends have been on notice for months they better come up with one giant celebration because it is an age to celebrate.

Julie got nasty comments. Blogs were begun just to diss me.  But hey any publicity….Not frigging true.

Unlike Julie I didn’t get a book contract.   But my life changed as dramatically.  As much as I talked about moving from New York I was scared.  I know New York.  New York knows me.  We went together like seltzer and vanilla syrup in egg creams which contain no eggs, but seltzer, syrup and milk.  I have an incredible support system in New York.  Yes I had been living the life so many dream of down to the luxe doorman building in the heart of the Upper West Side.

But my dreams had changed.  I knew to continue living the life I lived I needed more space in a way less pricey place.  I didn’t count on a house.  That never entered my radar until I found North Myrtle Beach and realized I was capable of buying, renovating (not with my own hands) and maintaining a house.  My house isn’t architecturally significant.  I could get a lot more house that has higher ceilings, is fancier, and has more room for much less money just across 17 but it wouldn’t be a five minute walk to the beach or a two minute walk to the center of town.  My house has decks, lots of decks and I love decks.  It thrills me to sit outside in the middle of the night looking at stars.  It thrills me to be able to run to the beach for just a few minutes whenever.

I haven’t been a “good” blogger these past three years and I’m not just talking quality.  Too much was happening in my “real” life to seek out new blogs, to make new blogging friends.  Julie didn’t have to comment, email, chat up people.  I’m not saying that all that is bad.  It was difficult for reasons my readers are all too aware of.  The problems I had were all interrelated (something I had intuitively known) had a name, and I operated at a level where I had compensated for almost everything.

Blogging brought the problems back. I couldn’t master the computer language of blogging, HTML.  I couldn’t blog socialize as much as many people wanted yet I couldn’t set limits.  I political blogged long after I knew it wasn’t healthy for me.  When I found out about NLD I began to take charge of my life.  Yet I had never felt “disabled” before.

Damn I was smart.  I had been eligible to skip grades but my parents didn’t believe in that.  People always took me for bright.  Yes I had gone through this before but blogging once so great for me began to make me feel like a collection of symptoms.  It’s not OK to have a space to pour your heart out into, unedited.  Since I generally wouldn’t talk about my friends in the present, blogging about NLD filled up space and let me vent.  Something I probably needed to do.  But will never know if the venting led to feeling worse.  I very much believe in the power of positive thinking, and not dwelling on problems, yet….Did it have to be so public?  I love having less Google entries.

So I lost readers, didn’t court new ones, and do you know how many blogs have begun in the past three years?  Many millions.  When I was “on top,” I think there grew to be sixty million.  I alone had five.

Yet it was the greatest feeling in the world in the beginning.  People read me!  People who weren’t classmates or relatives.  An illustrator/cartoonist said to me: “you have the feedback I have always craved.”  I was shocked as I’ve known him all my life and thought he was a person who shunned the spotlight.  And he makes mucho money.  But I knew what he meant.  There’s nothing like that first feeling of wonder; of going to a from “blogger to writer” seminar knowing I had a higher Technorati rating than the speakers.  Yes of course I looked.  I was hung up on stats then.  I have always resented that title.  I was a writer a long time before I was a blogger.

I didn’t know how to handle that recognition.  It came out of nowhere and at times, many times, felt undeserved. At times it made me want to jump up and down with joy.  Other times I wanted to ask people if they knew who I was.  Like they cared. I lived in New York where everybody really does have their fifteen minutes or their best friend did.  Everybody was famous for something real. Not having a money losing blog.  Everybody was younger and better looking than me.  I take that last one back.  But I had begun to feel that I was living in a theme park and I just ain’t a Disney or Rouse production person.

My life was unsettled.  Maybe I will never have that recognition again but hey, I’m prepared for anythng.  I’m settled now.  Everything I have done in the past three years has been to improve my life.

So Julie went onto fame and fortune and I went on to home ownership.  OK she’s lived my dream.  My dream didn’t die.  It went on hiatus.  The long drawn out saga is over, and the fun’s about to begin.  Stay tuned.

My next posts will be at the max half this length.  As usual I reserve the right to change my mind.

First the Monterey Pop v Woodstock debate. I wasn’t at either but did see every showing of Monterey Pop the day it came out. I recorded Woodstock the other day after i realized I have only seen snippets, but only seem to watch HGTV or health care reform centered shows.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqWVOSSmPpc&hl=en&fs=1&]
Hi you old faithful friend. I gave you a little party the other day as keeping you up for five years marked a milestone in my life. It was the longest I have been ever able to do anything. Now that you’re five there’s no telling what we’ll be able to achieve together.

Blog let me be honest. There are a few rivals for your affection. First is Facebook. FB is usually fun. If only I could be pithy clever…sort of like Bill Maher who I spent last night watching, with a group of friends, while eating Southern food. We kept rewinding and I still couldn’t remember all his one great one liners on the subject that seems to have overtaken my thoughts–health care reform.

He did ask, and blog you and I have wondered the same, what plans the Republicans have if they hate our plans so much. The only one I can remember is McCain’s “you can take your insurance with you.” As I was paying $1300 a month because I lived on the UWS and had a faux-Rolls life style, that wouldn’t be doable on a greatly reduced income.

OK blog you’re asking as any sane blog would, what does this have to do with FB? Many people seem to plan their days around putting in pithy clever or pithy zany remarks. If I could remember all the awesome amazing incredible interesting thoughts I come up when there’s absolutely no way to write them down–in the shower, on a walk in the beach usually in the water, or when I half wake up at night, the world would know how truly clever I am. I know, I know, everybody says that, but….

Big Question blog: how are you going to help me? We, you and I, lurk in blogs where bloggers who call themselves writers use “your” when they mean “you’re” over and over again. We’re never sure if that’s done on purpose as some kind of weird affectation that seems to work. People just love these blogs that, well, aren’t very well written. Or, we think, interesting as the bloggers uh excuse me writers don’t know how to tell a story or stand away from the pack and let their quirks show. They are super-friendly, often with alcohol inspired blogging names, attend blogging fairs and often write about subjects that were tired three years ago. Yes there is no such thing as a new subject but there should always be a new way to say it.

Blog we have traveled some roads less taken together and some roads most people wouldn’t brave at all. Let’s find a straighter road, not the most traveled, but not apart from the crowd and finally achieve something that will bring in some dinero.

The link takes me to my first post. However it can also be found by going into August 04 in the archives
Today, August 13th is my five year blogiversary

If you read my first post and I don’t suggest you do you will see that I never expected this to be “public,” and I have always been writing variations on the same themes.

I miss the posts on my parents. I hope that I’m not moving too far from them in my life and my memories. Also miss the posts on friends and lovers. I hope the posts come together in book form. I promise new stories. Yes Doug there are things I have never written here. More than you can imagine….

My blog has given me much. Not in the financial sense but to have met so many incredible people in so many different arenas, that is joyous.

Many people, my age, can’t understand how something that hasn’t given me monetary gain can be so enriching. I’m not going to attempt to explain. As I’m not going to attempt to explain to these people that writing for the sake of writing and having an audience can be empowering and spill over to all different facets of life.

Five years ago I would have laughed had you told me where I would be living now or that I would own a house with unexpansive grounds I just made much larger by moving the gate to fill half the concrete driveway so that I can have a winter garden–the sun hits it constantly. I’m going to take a table, buy some chairs and some more chaises for it. The older part will have the grill, table and chairs and outdoor living room furniture because really I do most of my living outdoors.

I have a flower garden in front and a vegetable garden, on the downstairs deck or unexpansive grounds, though nobody in my court has been able to grow more than seven tomatoes this year. I don’t know, nor does anybody who knows more than me, what’s wrong with the cucumbers, but I’m big on peppers–three kinds–which is good as they’re one of the pricier foods here. I will have new pictures soon.

There is the slow food movement and there is my slow life movement especially in August.

This is the first time in my life I feel totally assured of what I’m doing–except for the investment in the next biggest thing that seems to be tanking but might just come back and roar.

It has taken me a long time to reach this place and I thank everybody who has been taking this journey with me. I do mean “journey” in every sense.

To the person who told me he secretly misses my responses to my tormenters. I hated them when they were happening. But they did make me feel wanted or needed in a very strange sense. I would rather be needed for expertise in subjects I don’t even know yet as I refuse to stop learning. I always believed you’re only as old as you think. Blogging has reinforced that.
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Just to keep that last paragraph real. Here’s something from moveon. I won’t debate health care. It’s too necessary and the arguments against a health care bill too sick. I will stop with one thought.

The first for profit health insurance companies in America began in 1974. It was done through the establishment of ERISA and is too complicated or too simplistic for my rain soaked brain to explain. Yes ERISA is a pension plan act but….

The point is that the American medical system the way it is now is under 40 years old. Medicare is older. So by changing health care systems we’re not changing something so thoroughly entrenched it’s all many generations of Americans have known.

I remember going to the doctor and paying a fair price for the visit. Insurance was for major medical bills. The reality is that just as ERISA was enacted advances were made in medical equipment and we, or our insurance companies, paid for every new great invention and many that weren’t needed or weren’t needed for that particular patient at that time. Maybe every doctor doesn’t need the newest best equipment.

I am grateful for the medical advances. It is said that more advances in medicine have been made since 1950 than in all history before that. That’s incredible.

I do have to end with something personal. In the 70′s my father saw that health costs were spiraling out of control for the many people in the arts he knew. He was the CPA for the Theater Development Fund (mostly known for the TKTS booths but has done much more for people in the arts)and began the first group insurance program for self-employed people in the arts. I have always considered that one of his greatest accomplishments and am very proud.

I can’t begin to state how ironic it would be if I’m denied coverage for a medical condition because I forgot to state something on my application. Here, in South Carolina, if you join through a group, not an employer, all the individual rules apply to you so I don’t understand the advantage of joining through a group. I want to enjoy the years before Medicare not live in fear of becoming sick

This was just going to be a little blogiversary post. Carried away has always been my blogging middle name.

There are many times I wonder why I have a blog; it often feels so 2004. For the past two years I have been going through the motions, yet my blog has become my place to talk out certain things in my life.
Find out what my disability is, check. Blog about it, check.
Prepare to sell apartment, check……
Spend six months selling apartment, check…..
Buy house, check…..
Renovate house, check….

Decide my birthday present to myself will be ending an addiction, check……

I didn’t know if I was going to blog about this. I know it seems as if I let everything out but I have an entire life never mentioned here and I thought this would be another thing not for public consumption.

I’m glad I did though I obsessively edited it after it was posted as I have a wont to do. Obsessively edited the words but I, Ms Fact Checker made a totally retarded mistake that I freaked about as it was further proof of me losing my mind. I knew Grace Slick wrote “White Rabbit.” I know what she wrote; I know the difference between her and Joplin as well as I know pretty much anything, but in two places in the Internet I found lyrics that said Joplin wrote it. I thought it strange but didn’t think to look further.

I’m kind of upset about that as I’m sort of an expert, in my own mind, on that time and music.

I used to have many readers and when I look at the stats every several months in my CPanel am shocked that people still reading Courting as I do nothing to pimp her.

Courting will be five in August and I was a slave to her the first several years. A blog, unless it’s bringing incredible self satisfaction and/or much money should be the blogger’s slave. It took me awhile to understand that.

I thank you, everybody who commented the other day. It wasn’t easy for me to post and I know it wasn’t easy to comment to. I seem to love to make things difficult.

I’m trying to simplify my life. It wasn’t fun to sell an apartment or to buy a house in 08. The world was going crazy. Blogs and all media had gone from a “I have so much and let me show you how financially successful I am” mode to “I am a great American and won’t spend a dime more than necessary” mode.

I always say I put my apartment on the market just as Bear Stearns imploded and closed just after the fall of Lehman Brothers. I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. I wasn’t sure buying a house while the stock market went back to free falling was a good move.

I no longer trusted my judgment. I looked at everything I had done in the past 20 years under a much more critical spectre. I knew I was lucky in many ways; I was financially secure (or thought I was:) Have amazing friends, of many decades, who tell me when they think I’m off kilter.

My closest friend sent me an email yesterday; subject line: how is my crazy friend? I deserved that. The day before was spent on the phone with her–me convinced I was going to go into convulsions at any second though I had no symptoms. Well my muscles did feel as if they were contracting….

Then there are the bloggers. All I can say is thank you. Writing about my addiction and my attempt to get off the pills hasn’t made it more real but putting it down in black & white and having your support is an incredible blessing.

This blog will be continued. As I’m no longer its slave most of my screen time will be spent writing for publication. No excuses.

I have always been my own muse. This solves a lot of problems such as the weekly pay check Bone demanded. (Kidding, he asked nicely.)

As my own muse I have always been conscious of the quality of my writing. Lately it doesn’t meet my own pitiful standards.

Is it because I have always refused to go to BlogHer? It’s always on the same weekend–my birthday–one of the few weekends of the year I insist on being with people who love me as I think birthdays are to be celebrated not spent trying to impress hundreds of strangers almost none of whom know or care that once this blog was well something more than most blogs. And I can’t blame them for not caring.

I do think Blog Her should have a revolving summer weekend policy as I’m sure other bloggers have birthdays, family birthdays, reunions, vacations–and yes somethings are more important than blogging. Summer fun being paramount.

This makes me sound flaky and not serious but anybody who knows me knows how important writing is too my life. Blogging’s something I became caught up in and now am addicted to and it’s a better addiction than heroin so….

This hasn’t been an easy year. I’m establishing a new life in a new city. A friend from New York called my move “drastic.” It is very different and perhaps I’m in denial when I say that it can’t be drastic as I go to New York often. I have homie or go to friends here. But really how many times a week can you see the same friends? We have our assigned dinner seats at each house; games we only play with each other–both real and head ones and….CLo’s daughter Niece Kelly and a friend of theirs–a funny Gay male (are there any others?) are coming tomorrow night. We’re all in a tither to entertain them. I have known Niece Kelly since she was a wee thing and like her mother she adds a lot to her surroundings. That’s a compliment though it sounds weird to me. See what I mean about not being able to write?

I’m making new friends. That’s both easy and difficult. Nobody can replace my best friends. They have been a part of my everyday life for longer than some of my blogging friends have been alive. I need the easy familiarity of being able to look at somebody and know what she/he is about to say. I need to be able to just look at somebody and burst out laughing….

I don’t feel sad that my blogging muse has dried up. I feel horrible that I can’t seem to write a coherent sentence unless it involves a complaint about a plumber in which case I did the lawyer’s work for her–the tech writing gene never leaves.

more than most people I know how difficult it is to make it as a writer. I need no lectures on that. I do need a cheering squad–and that’s the horrible thing about blogging and once having been rather well known. It makes you feel “you deserve,” when you deserve nothing that hard work doesn’t bring.

I’m willing to do the work but the words don’t seem to come out and I keep reading how you should never take things from your blog though I think I began a damn good memoir about me and Jeffrey or me with Jeffrey as the background

I was doing a writing exercise and that helped but about five weeks ago I read a comment complaint in a blog about people who write more than one screen and want comments. The author of the post emailed me to tell me that was about me and wow!!! I haven’t been able to write since. I know an excuse when I write one, and it might be that I have had much company, that the weather’s finally sultry and great for beach going–though I try to write every day from 9AM until 3PM.

If somebody could define a screen for me I would be ecstatic. There are screens on Blackberries. Then there’s my 24″ Imac. I know people who use 40″ or even 56″ high def flat screen TV’s as their Internet screen. So what’s a screen?

And why do writing exercises seem to favor poetry? They say prose is acceptable but when four fifths of the posts are poetry it’s a poet’s site, and anyway poets know what a screen is.

I’m being silly I know. In part because in nineteen days I enter the last year of a pivotal decade and while I don’t fear the decade coming up I do fear the next or the one after that. I’m a bit confused on that subject too.

Oh lighten up Pia!!!!!!!!!

This isn’t a complaint about blogging. It’s just become real difficult for me to write and I need to blame something as I can’t stand the thought that maybe I really am too old or something

I don’t particularly like Maureen Dowd but I think a special place in hell is reserved for Karl Rove who should have been tried for crimes against humanity.

I never get why Republicans are supposed to have great senses of humor but Democrats–why Maureen is dour; and Letterman, I fear gave in too quickly to Palin–a woman who wastes no breath as she spits out hate.
I don’t think he went too far. When you parade your children publicly they become fair game. Bristol’s supposed to be an expert on teenage pregnancy. She’s eighteen….and I love Letterman so…
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Deleted posts is I.

I’m spending money when I want to retreat and squirrel it away. The least the Amish people who are making my kitchen cabinets can do is have it on time, but no. The rest of the kitchen work depends on having the cabinets. I need my house. I have been living without my glass, other things, and furniture since a year ago last November. Oh my favorite clothes too.

I need to buy more furniture. This isn’t the fun experience it should have been. I resent so many people having such a great time in the 90′s and earlier this century and me saving, saving, saving–and now losing losing losing losing. Yes I feel good that I have enough to do this.

Of course I might find myself regretting what I wished for. i might never be able to leave home again

I feel as if every nerve in my body is on fire; sort of the feeling after a toothache. I walked to my house via the ocean. It was lovely. I took many pictures. I tried getting lost coming home but met a new (obviously) friend.

I am in New York not South Carolina–where Hannah did touch down in the Cherry Grove section of North Myrtle Beach.

I have never done an interstate move before with storage involved. I’m nervous about that. Is it a self-absorbed lu_ury to write about?.
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I took this post down as it was self-absorbed and whiney. Love the title however. Here’s another self-absorbed and whiney post from my little world

And, i don’t see too many people being judged for their life choices on the Internet. Why should it be different for me?

Why should I have to defend talking about my move? It would be big for anybody–for me it’s as if I’m climbing three mountain peaks.

Do you have any idea what it takes to sell at a profit in a down market? Do you have any idea what it takes to keep money coming in a stock portfolio.

I know those things aren’t important to you. They are too me as i do like to live well. Why should I be apologetic about it?

I wasn’t going to write about my move at all but quickly understand it was blog it or have a nervous breakdown. So sorry if the posts aren’t up to your standards.

Life lessons? I don’t need anymore. I’m neither shallow nor un-anaylitical. i have over analyzed my bumping into a doorknob before i knew what my problems were.

I’m moving to a place where they think you’re crazy if you don’t drive and own a car. I don’t drive and never will–not by choice but by disability. I turn it into a joke. “The world’s safer without me at the wheel.” “I’m like Stevie Wonder. If you get drunk I will drive.”

Do you understand that this really isn’t a joke? Do you understand how difficult this move is for me? I’m leaving the only city I have truly known. I’m leaving a life time of friends, family and memories.

Do you understand that the mechanics of life are much more difficult for me than for most people? Still I do what has to be done, or try.

I need peace and contentment in my life. This city is too crazy and too crazy pricey for that.

Do you understand that when you stood in judgment of me, and you did whether you can see that or not, I wanted to delete you from the everybody I know list.

This week had been about beginning to find peace and then I heard from you and wondered if I’m not understandable. I wondered if people really don’t like me or want to know me. i wondered if people find my writing boring and intolerable. Oh but unlike you I don’t peer deep into my soul. I thought you read my article on NLD. It doesn’t give me permission to abstain from life’s details, but it attempts to show who I am.

When I leave New York ne_t month I have to buy a house. I e_pect that to be easier but i’m the queen of “you never know,” as honestly I never do

I find life’s roads to be very curvy, trees over turned, shards of glass everywhere. Still I walk them.

I could spend my life self-improving or I could spend my life doing with some introspection. i chose the later. I don’t like to focus on myself as I hate becoming depressed. The pain I felt before I knew I had NLD and at various times during this year is diminishing. And like a tooth ache I can’t remember it e_actly.

Did you think you were being clever? Wise? Did you think you were going to make me look deep into myself, face me and come up with horrible truths? That I should peer into my soul and find a vapid horrible person. Honestly I like the person i see.

The one truth I know is that I’m a good person with many flaws. I have tried, more than most, to rid myself of the flaws but like the small lines on my face they aren’t going anywhere

Don’t read my blog if you no longer like my writing. I could ask you many questions about your present life but I choose not to.

You might have accomplished what many have tried. Blogging should be a pleasant e_perience. A nothing personal post should be treated as one.

I’m not sure whether i will put this blog on hiatus or not. You really did succeed in make me feel boring and that I have nothing worth saying.
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Yesterday I crossed the park to the discount high fashion optician. I whispered “do you have Sarah Palin’s glasses.” They were aghast as they hate…but I ended up buying similiar but nicer ones. I had taped the prior night’s Letterman and found it hysterical when he said “wouldn’t Sarah Palin make a great commercial for LensCrafters?”

Then I went for a pedicure as I really couldn’t stand my clear tinged with pink toes. I got deep red. As I looked at the woman ne_t to me who was getting clear tinged with pink…I wanted her color. Then I realized I suffer from pedicure envy.