Hmmm…

So it seems that things have changed around here. (See what happens when time marches on? Things even look different.)

Have you changed too?

Firstly, an apology: I know said I would keep blogging over the holidays, but I lied. Not intentionally, but a lie none-the-less.

I did intend to blog, but one thing lead to another, and having brothers who mockingly call this thing “Dear Diary” and a Mum that I’m pretty sure hates any personal information being shared on the Socials, I felt ashamed/weird/silly to blog the holidays away. To be honest I think I would have preferred being caught red-faced having a date with Palmela Handerson, than tapping away on these keys and pressing climax publish.

And then  as the days wore on, so much happened, and I just couldn’t keep up. The list of potential blog posts in my head just grew and grew, and before too long I realised there was no way of ever catching up. So my brain sped up and up and it was like a mouse running, running on its tiny wheel, so I had to force it to stop. The thoughts then grew plump and over-ripe and  rotted to ruins, like plums on the footpath, with that sweetsickystickystench to flare your nostrils and as you walk quickly by.

And every day that went by, it became easier and easier to simply not blog. I was still writing of course, for without this tap tap tap of the keyboard I don’t know what to think, but just nothing fit for your eyes. Or perhaps I underestimate you, and your ability to listen without judgement.

I became self-conscious. I imagined this writing process to be like some excruciating public speaking gig, where you stare at me with your arms folded,  and I try to make you laugh and cry, despite yourself. Tough crowd. Not pleasant.

This self-consciousness expanded to my subject matter. Instead of From The Ashers simply being a forum of my experiments in thet written word, I forgot that this is my space,  and you are my guests. Free to come and go as you please.

Instead I started to think that you can choose the content and I had better deliver what you want. Even though I have no idea what that actually is. I felt bad that I wanted to talk to you about death and grief and despair. I thought that you’d probably had enough of my self-absorbed public whining, and that I was (am?) here to entertain you.

But of course that’s not the case is it, not really.

I can talk about whatever I want here: this is my piece of peace and virtual real estate, and I can say whatever the fuck I like, within my own rules of decorum. I’m allowed.

So what will blog be like? I have no idea.

What will the blog schedule be? Again: no idea.

I have a new job, so time might be managed differently and posting could be sporadic. Perhaps I can find out how to let you subscribe so you will get updates when I post. That would make sense.

Will I still be sharing stories from my heart? Yes. That won’t change. I’m always writing about them in my mind anyway, so I might as well pop them up here in case you want to have a look. In fact, the way I make sense of this world is through the written world, it seems I know no other way. So be warned: thoughts will just flood onto the page, largely unedited (as I see when I browse through old posts. *Shudder*)

This was on my Insta from Kelly Exeter… Nails it.

Will there be ads on here? I bloody hope so. Some day I hope someone will just walk right up to me and say: can we advertise on your blog? If they do, in the interests of full disclosure and petty bragging, I will tell you, although I guess you will know, for I’ll be driving around in a fully restored FB Holden, with a tricked up Kombi for weekends.

Will there be a book? Perhaps. One day. When I create a workable and reliable Delorean. Hopefully that’s soon, because my kids are growing up so quickly I need to slow things right down, lest I miss a minute. (Plus I said something thoughtless yesterday, that I’d like to go back and erase.)

So I’ve done the WordPress update, and it appears that I don’t have the dottie background or my old headings saved anywhere on this thing. So for now (or maybe forever, or at least until someone comes and fixes it for me), it’s triangles.

Or nothing.

Welcome back you, welcome back me.

It’s good to see you.

…From The Ashers xx

This is a practice blog, to see if I can actually do it, then stand to do it from my ipad.

I MAY have mentioned that we are GOING TO AMERICA for Christmas, and I know you’ll all be gagging for my hilarious updates on the state of the nation, so I have to decide: to Macbook, or not to Macbook?

Will this tiny screen and keyboard made for hamsters (See? I’m already talking like a Seppo) drive me slowly insane? Or will the superior charge-holding abilities, the lighter weight, and the fact that it doesn’t toast my (now practically obsolete) ovaries to cinders when I have it on my knees, finally win out?

All shall be revealed when I try to import a picture presently, and then view the preview, check for dreaded typos etc….

It’s taxing stuff, this blogging caper.

PS I know you don’t give a rat’s, but I was typing this anyway, so I thought I might as well publish. Sharing is caring, right?

PPS I did it!! And I didn’t even have to ask the Evil Geniuses once!!!  My computery skills know no bounds. Nor does my use of extraneous exclamation points!

!!!!

!!

…From The Ashers