So, remember how I said, like, LAST WEEK even, that I am overextending myself by planning and scheduling ALL THE THINGS?
Yeah. Me too.
Well, I was online this morning, minding my own business, when somebody on Teh Interwebs put forth a challenge. It’s called NaBloPoMo, which is not an acronym for something rude, as you might be thinking, me being… well, ME. Nor is it some sort of fusion cuisine, to go along with my plans to blog about food with the Insane Cooking Posse.
It stands for National Blog Posting Month. It’s a spin on NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, in which writerly types more dedicated than myself try to write a novel in a month. OH MY GOD WHO HAS THE ENERGY OR THE TIME. Instead, those of us with blogs try to post every day for the month of November, as a way to liven up a stagnant blog, or reinvigorate a flagging will to post, or simply as a way to challenge oneself and stretch those writing muscles.
Anyway. The challenge was put forth. And before my head got in gear my fingers were posting I’M IN TOO SO HELP ME DOG. Starting with yesterday’s post.
What am I, nuts? It’s not like I’m not already running around like some screwball 50s housewife, taking on waaaay more than I can rightfully accomplish and then just failing miserably. But I keep adding these things on, until the end of the show comes and like Lucy I am standing in the middle of some incredible mess bawling my eyes out WAAAAAHHHHH and you hear BDH hollering from off-camera CINNAMON YOU GOT SOME SPLAININ TO DO.
So that’ll be nice.
But here’s the thing. Sometimes, you need to challenge yourself in ways that are good for you. YOU. (I mean me. The royal “you”. Okay, I just made that up. But you know what I mean.) And writing, although people out there in Internetsland read it, is one of those things. It’s like a little bit of exercise for a little bit of creative muscle amid the running around and the cooking and the hollering HEY DON’T LICK THAT and the laundry and being the potty monitor.
So I’ll give it a try.
Don’t expect War and Peace every day. You won’t even get War one day and Peace the next. Likely what you’ll get is more of the same cursing, inane rambling, and waving my fist in futile anger at the universe. Probably towards the end of the month, a lot of foul language in regards to snow.
So, business as usual, then. With a more frantic tone as I begin to get frazzled. And probably more pictures when I get really desperate and OH MY DOG WHAT THE EVERLOVING HELL AM I GOING TO WRITE TODAY. Ish.
So. You can choose to change the channel until December. You can read along with great patience.
Or… YOU CAN JOIN ME. Be the Ethel Mertz to my Lucy.
How bad can it be? It’s November. It’s cold and crappy and dark. You got something better to do?