Blogging and honesty

I have been trying, really hard, to be a better blogger. Like in, one that blogs regularly. My initial plan for April was every day, then I decided perhaps every working day after the first (unsuccessful) week. Then I decided maybe I could make up the 'gaps' by blogging twice in a day a couple of days. Then I gave up. May is a new month, let's see what ideas I come up with for then. My brain just seems to be a barren wasteland when it comes to writing.

In the interest's of becoming a better blogger, I decided to venture out of my usual realm of fabulous bloggers who I read regularly, and find some others to see what other people do.

I spent an entire day reading a woman's blog that I stumbled across and becoming more and more amazed by humans. It was filled with (fascinating) tales of primary-school-type best friend poiltics (e.g. she ran off with my ex-boyfriend so now I'm not talking to her anymore), alcopop and shooter-fuelled nights out in clubs, vomiting in bathrooms and a whole cast of men passing through the blogger's bed. I was horrified to realise as I got deeper and deeper into the back stories that it actually belonged to a woman who is the mother of not only a tweenie/young teenaged daughter, but a 17-year old son too.

Far be it for me to judge, I don't have children and can't even imagine how hard it is to rear them, especially single-handedly, but I must admit to thinking that perhaps it's not a wonder that 16-year old son has 'behavioural problems'. Beside all that, though, her blatant honesty was refreshing and, while her naivete was astounding after reading her history, her soul glowed through it all - clear and beautiful and heart-wrenchingly broken, so many times. Tough cookie.

My point? Not sure I have one, other than a refreshed desire to write more, and honestly, and openly, and push those privacy issues into a corner (or, preferably, out the door completely).

In the good news, I'm off to the Big Smoke this weekend to go to a wedding of two of the nicest people I know - two boys. It's my first gay boy wedding and I'm terribly excited. As I've discussed before, I believe that love doesn't see gender or colour or religion etc (a post of its own - coming soon), and there is nothing lovelier than seeing two people who have found each other and want to stay together. And I get to see my gorgeous baby nephews, who are crawling and teething, and being generally fabulous. Yippee!

Let's see what May brings, shall we?

Getting my bearings

I am working on my honesty pants, honestly I am. They've been washed, but they're still all crinkly and wet and needing shaking out and some good drying time on the line, in the sun. In the meantime I remain talking in metaphor. So it's honest, but not yet blatant.

I've finally realised what it is (it came in a blinding flash of insomnia-induced possibly-far-too-deep thinking)... It's the mirage. He's so busy running toward that pretty, shimmery mirage, that he doesn't see anything else, and I keep getting knocked over, even after asking not to be.

It is time for some balancing of the scales, I need to get over to the other side, my bruises are beginning to show from being knocked too many times. I need to get over there, to my village, my safe spot. Where I am sure of myself and can get my bearings. Sometimes I care too much you see and it makes me feel that other's are careless with me. I need to breathe and work out if they really are, or it's just me. I think it might be both.

Then I'll be able to not be knocked over, but to wave and smile at him (and give him juice), hurtling by toward that mirage, and can only hope he realises that it's exactly that - a mirage - and that he finds what he's looking for on the other side of it, and doesn't miss (or lose) too much on his way there.