Up until today, the majority of my followers shared at least some of my DNA. My blog comments consisted of remarks like, “Daughter, you make me laugh” and “Yes, I remember that time, and it was funny.” My point is not that I’m related to robots, but that I’m accustomed to a readership who must love me unconditionally– I may be their only hope for grandchildren.
Then, by some stomach cramp of the universe, WordPress must have run out of blogs to feature, shrugged, and Freshly Pressed me. My adrenaline has been pumping ever since.
I don’t do well under pressure (the only time I’ll play competitive sports is if I’ve shared a meal with every single person on both teams, and the game takes place in my backyard). I’m not a person who grabs the bull by the horns. I’m not even confident that I’d poke the bull with a really long stick unless I was in a secure location and the bull was drugged.
This is why I chose writing– a profession that comes with a delete key. I don’t understand how people handle careers that require functioning well in emergency situations that cannot be undone. If I were a surgeon and a patient on my table started spurting blood, I think I would turn to the nurse beside me, look at him/her regretfully, and say, “Do you mind taking care of this? I just remembered I have a thing.” Actually, that’s giving myself too much credit. I’d probably just stand there, blinking and sweating.
I still have well under one thousand followers, so me writing a blog isn’t exactly Bono walking out into a crowd at Madison Square Garden. It isn’t even a toupee-wearing principal walking out into a half-sleeping high school assembly. And yet, as I stared at the blank screen, watching the cursor wink at me, my hands trembled and I was lightly coated with fingernail shavings and balled up peanut butter cup wrappings. I had the composure of a recovering heroine addict.
“Funny. Why can’t you think of something funny?” I scolded myself, my left eye twitching.
I’d like to say that this is when I had some sort of meaningful revelation– that humor is an attitude, a lens through which one views life’s absurdity.
But no, this is actually when I got up to use the bathroom and mindlessly walked straight into a wall.
What I needed was not a revelation, but a shoulder/ego bruising.
Anyway, thanks to all who pressed the “Follow” button. I like to set low standards for myself so that I won’t be disappointed, so my goal will not be to make you laugh out loud, but perhaps only IHS– In-Head Smirk.