I Can't Go On I'll Go On

T minus 48 hours before I leave for BlogHer and I've never felt more conflicted about blogging. Is that ironic? Or just pathetic?


I've said many times that I've gotten everything I wanted out of blogging: an outlet for writing; a great community; a bunch of wonderful, creative, hilarious new friends; and a few free books. 


I am opposed to the concept of unrestrained growth. I hated when I worked at Chapters and they were always on us to push the stupid rewards card on everyone - look, some people just want to come in and buy their frigging book of crossword puzzles and pay and leave, okay? People who regularly come in and buy a buttload of books probably already have the card, and people who don't want it just get pissed off when you ask them AGAIN if they want it. (Mysteriously, I've never taken an aptitude test that suggested I would be good in sales). 


I don't like the idea of constantly having to grow my blog, expand my readership, create a brand, find new markets etc. etc. either. Some people start out blogging as a business and make it work really well, which is great for them. Some people fall into a good way to monetize what they're already doing - this makes me both admiring and jealous. I can't do it. It has nothing to do with integrity - I'm just too self-conscious, or lazy, or inconsistent in my interests, to make this work.


That said, I am feeling a slight sense of blog malaise at the moment. Maybe it's just the summer, or the beginning-of-summer craziness with driving/houseguests/baseball/baseball/baseball. But I'm considering the fact that I might need to put a bit more thought into what I want this blog to be (and by 'a bit more' I mean 'any'), although I swear on the lives of my children that you will never ever find the words 'mission statement' used here, and if you do you have my permission to heap digital spit-covered scorn on me. 


So. I will try to be less lazy about taking and posting crappy pictures with my sub-standard cameras. I will try to be less chickenshit about wading into discussions about controversial current events. I will try to screw up more recipes and go on more painful and humiliating field trips for your mocking pleasure. And if all else fails, Eve's still nine - surely I can wring a few more cute misstatements or hilarious amusing anecdotes out of her before I shut this baby down forever. Oh! Oh! Here: a picture of her play at the end of drama camp here in Ottawa. The five girls wrote the play together with their counsellor: Eve plays a mean orphanage director named Mrs. Doublebutt (pronounced Doob-lay-boo) who takes in two orphan girls and mistreats them, but then Santa comes and they wake up so he offers to grant them two wishes if they'll pretend they never saw him, and then there's a dance-off - what? Shut up, they had three days, it was awesome.