Thursday, May 04, 2006

Better to be pissed off...

...than pissed on. I'm guessing.

but first...

Do you suppose this means I'm finally going to get probed?

Don't you hate it when you get a nice big head of steam worked up, write up a draft, and then one (or more) of your good blogfriends posts the exact same topic--only they take the extreme opposite side?

That's happened to me like three times in the last month.
I'm guessing it is some sort of sign and I should be grateful that the posts remain in draft form.

See, I write my posts in bits and pieces...I love WordPad. I'll set down thoughts as I get them, maybe even over a week or two, and eventually draft it when I'm ready to put it all together.

I've probably got 10 or 12 drafts at any given time. Many of them never see the light of day.

I have a couple of semi-ranting posts that have been patiently awaiting their turn, and now I can't post them because it will seem as though I'm blatantly pointing a big fat finger in a certain direction (or two)(or three), even though it isn't really meant to be that way.

Timing...a-tick a-tick a-tick a-tick...TIMING...a-tock a-tock a-tock a-tock...

It's funny how we all seem to go in cycles, sort of like women who live together get on the same menstrual cycle. Bloggers who 'hang out' together sometimes get on blogging cycles. We have the same sort of ideas at the same time.

Now my posts will never see the light of day (okay, so they probably weren't all that great to begin with) because there are those amongst you whose feelings I wouldn't hurt for a million dollars.

Two million, maybe. But not one.

I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself that I didn't put mine out there first, so that you would seem like the finger-pointing copy-cat.
And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

Tales From The Dark Side...

I'll tell you a secret.
As a single parent, one of my biggest fears is that I'll die at home and my daughter will suffer the trauma of actually having to find me.

Now that thought does keep me awake at night.
I actually pray that when God decides to call me home, it won't be from my home.
I want to die at work or at the grocery store or something, so I can traumatize grownups. :)

Is all I'm saying.
Post a Comment