I need to get back to basics. To write because I love putting words together and telling a story not because I found a “blogging niche” or am writing a book. Lately I have been reading many blogs and they all have one common denominator unless they’re strictly a literary blog. “Look at me! I’m a blog and this blog isn’t going to make me rich, of course, but click on___to show you love my brand and the products that support me or will support me once you learn that I’m incredible.”
You already know what I am: a woman who posted 1,000 posts in three years and 200 in the next five! Blogging taught me to write as nothing or nobody else could. Blogging taught me that captured memories can be as real or as make-believe as photos. Every picture might tell a story but do they tell exactly the story in the photo? Or the ones we remember through years of looking at that photo and adding to our memory bank? Now that every phone has a decent camera and there’s instagram it’s probably different but we’re old school here. OK we’re still learning the iPhone we gave ourselves as a Thanksgiving present–it’s been a long winter and it’s not as intuitive as the iPad. We’ll leave it at that.
It was four years ago tomorrow we took a seventeen hour plane ride–the ride itself is only an hour and a half but there were delays and more delays and it was pouring and we loved rain then even less than we love it now–to start a new life. We freaked when we learned about nonverbal learning disorder (NLD) and stopped trusting our instincts which was about the dumbest thing we have ever done. Now we’re making a truly fresh start as we trusted a stock broker we had known most of our life. It was the great recession. He insisted. We kept saying “ten percent of nothing is nothing” but he kept insisting. It turned out we were right.
We bought a house and then dismantled it. This week we have to get it together to have the outside painted. We didn’t know that outdoor paint, guaranteed for ten to fifteen years in the North is only guaranteed for five years here. The sellers who were going through an acrimonious divorce, only she didn’t know it then, painted the house to sell it not to live in it. We all have done things like that so I can’t complain.
I thought I have been wasting a lot of time but last night it occurred to me that selling an apartment in Manhattan just as the market is first crashing, buying .and renovating a house while watching my whole known world turn on its face, establishing myself as a sorta expert on a disability nobody knows about and fewer people care about isn’t nothing. If you agree please tell me. I need to hear it.
As I need to write in this blog so that my stories, the stories I want in my book–I have many and need more–will begin flowing again. Please encourage me. You can also tell me the royal we is stupid in a New York Russian Jew who dreams of big cities that are never quite really New York.
Must learn to leave the Facebook tab closed. Must. I could live my life on Facebook telling myself that I’m learning about NLD. Learning about the world from a non-NLD perspective though of course I knew all that before. The truth is I love Facebook. I can show my wit. Can make friends much easier than I can here. Yes I finally said it. This isn’t NY or Cambridge or any place I have ever known.
I know Miami would have been much easier for me. Diversity–or Jews and Latins, my people. Culture. Public transport that didn’t end six months after I bought a house. Streets with sidewalks. Galleries. Incredible restaurants. It was the city I have wanted to move to ever since I can remember. So why didn’t I? Perhaps I love torturing myself. Perhaps I saw something here that truly spoke to me. Perhaps I figured I could write without interruption.
I forgot one major component. I, like most everybody, needs stimulation. The sounds of people walking. People arguing. People talking about important things. People talking about their work as if the world will rise or fall on one paragraph that will be meaningless the next day.
When I finally remembered I said that I will make my own stimulating scenarios. Not so easy. I don’t want to live my life having anxiety attacks and all I need to do is check the stock market for that. Facebook NLD? How many times can I participate in “differences between NLD and Asperger’s or High Functioning Autism as it will be called now.
That reminds me–Shana–our Shana’s younger son Carter was diagnosed with high functioning autism last week. Shana being Shana already has a facebook page and a blog.
Back to stimulation. I have made some friends and need more. Now that I have written it down it doesn’t seem so daunting. Life’s never daunting when you have a blog. Just don’t ask me to document every moment of my life. To be all perky and filled with cute anecdotes about kids and/or dogs. Don’t expect me to write about growing older–unless I feel like it. Retirement? Some of you laugh and say “she’s had it so easy. What does she know about work?” A lot actually. And anybody who thinks making back money or making new money as some say is easy has never known sleepless nights and bag lady nightmares.
I laugh when people say they devote three hours a day to blog business. When I was writing posts everyday blogging took ten to seventeen hours. Between writing posts–and practicing becoming a better writer–and commenting on other blogs I barely had time for life. I’m not complaining. It got me….OK it seemed normal as I had been a compulsive worker.
I know most people won’t comment on this blog. They only comment on “important” blogs. The blogs that will get them exposure and possibly a future. That makes me sad as it proves my point that blogging is no longer something somebody does because he loves telling stories or has a point to make or….
Shall I take the coward’s way out otherwise known as the easy way and ask you what you think blogging has become? Is personal satisfaction still important or is it only satisfying if making some money’s involved?