Why blog? A fine question.
Why does anyone blog? They have stories to tell? They want their voice to be heard? Yes, and yes. Also, slightly self-centered, vain, egotistical, narcissistic, assume everyone is interested in my stories (why are you here if you’re not?), etc. Really, lots of friends and family have shown interest in my adventures, so this first and foremost is for them. If anyone interested in van life stumbles across this, I hope I give them idea of what they’re in for – the non-sugar-coated version.
My great hope is that the right p̶u̶b̶l̶i̶s̶h̶e̶r̶/̶e̶d̶i̶t̶o̶r̶ person will stumble upon my blog (so please share with absolutely everyone you know!), and decide that I am the right combination of Bill Bryson/David Sedaris and Chelsea Handler, but of course with my own sassy touch, and beg to publish my pieces in a book of essays. It’s always been a dream of mine (and as my friend and neighbor Bill has said many a time, he’s never known me to not follow through with something), to write a book. I’ve started multiple times, but I don’t like having to have a sequence, and have everything make sense. I’d rather write stories like I tell them – one at a time, randomly, infused with ridiculousness. But also, if I could get some sponsors or something (it might help if I understood how that whole game works, but whatevs) and make an income off this as well, I’d be game.
Because we know I’m a big mental health advocate, let me slip in here that blogging really helps my mental wellbeing. It helps me reframe whatever situation has occurred, and takes it from something that I was about to Hulk out over into a comical situation. It’s like it does some instant EMDR magic. Instead of waiting and having to work on filing it away properly later with vibrating paddles in your hands and a therapist after your brain folders have made a mess of it, writing about it helps me put it away much more quickly and efficiently, and in a seemingly organized fashion.
I’m going to take a bit of a sidebar here…… I also do it because of a scene in one of my favorite movies, Shall We Dance. There’s this part in the movie when Susan Sarandon’s character has hired a PI because she thinks her husband (Richard Gere) is cheating on her. The PI comes back to her telling her Richard Gere is just taking dance lessons; no worries. Well, Susan’s character is still upset that he’s done this without saying a word to her, and the PI doesn’t get her anger….her husband isn’t having an affair; why is she upset? She says something to the effect that to her, marriage is someone witnessing your life; that partnership is saying that your life will not go unnoticed. That’s a total paraphrase, and the real thing is much better and much more moving. This is one of the two times in that movie that will get me s̶o̶b̶b̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶ a little teary every time. The other time is when Richard Gere has foregone the big farewell dance to pick his wife up after work, and is riding the escalator up to her counter at a department store in his tux, holding a red rose while Peter Gabriel’s Book of Love is playing (also better in the film than in my description). Susan asks him why he’s there instead of the party, and he replies that you can’t dance without your partner, and his partner is right here. She responds that she doesn’t know how to dance, and he tells her that she’s been dancing with him for 19 years. Just in case you were wondering. I’ve honestly at this point rather forgotten where I was going with this, but end goal - book. Oh, wait, the point of that whole tangent was because I’m not really a relationship kind of gal, so I don’t have that one person who sees my life. Maybe this way, my life doesn’t go un-witnessed.
My final (for now, because the why may change and evolve, as one does) reason is based on two other movies, Still Alice, and The Notebook. The common thread in both of these? Alzheimer’s. Should I some day forget (because I already do at a sometimes alarming rate) my life’s story (and especially the nuances…..I’ve found that if I go a few days without blogging, I forget crucial parts of situations that probably made it funnier; my brain just couldn’t hold on to them, so I end up doing broad strokes writing), I would love to have someone read me my own adventures. I feel certain I could identify with the heroine, and probably appreciate her untamed spirit.