My Blogging Dysfunction

 

Louis Léopold Boilly - Les grimaces

Les grimaces (Funny faces). Lithography by Louis-Léopold Boilly

In an earlier post I wrote about a missing avatar, I admitted I was HTML intolerant.

All those #@$#!! letters rupture brainwaves and accelerate my pulse I can’t find when holding my wrist, a sign that I’m a neurotic hypochondriac, as well as directionally impaired.

Whenever my pulse gets a Black Sabbath vibe after I stare at HTML for a while, I suffer from Blogger Ditz Disorder, also known as a brain glitch, characterized by the inability to think.

If only my blogging dysfunction ended there. Sadly, I’m also a Facebookphobe. Yes, Facebook and social media scare me.

But that doesn’t stop me from visiting my profile every time I get the memo from Facebook that “You have notifications pending,” which makes me feel bad I haven’t responded to all those Farmville requests.

Just what I need. More online distractions.

Isn’t frivolous link-hopping and “Am I fat?” Googling bad enough?

How can one brain process trillions of cyber nano bytes?

That’s why my brain shuts down every couple of days from information overload, which includes Facebook emails that come with an underlying threat.

Lauren, you have 30,000 Facebook notifications pending.

Don’t you feel like an asshole for not responding?

Lauren, WTF Knows just added you as a friend on Facebook.

You want to have friends. Don’t you? Or are you some kind of freak?

Lauren, you have five friends with birthdays this week.

Wish them a Happy Birthday, damn it, you freak!

Honestly, I agree with Betty White when she said, “. . . Now that I know what Facebook is all about, frankly, I think it’s a waste of time.”

Yet, social media gurus constantly hype the importance of using Facebook and other platforms to promote a business or blog. Book publishers require authors to use social media to promote their books. Simon & Schuster even runs a social media boot-camp for their authors.

I understand the necessity of self-promotion. I “tweet” and “like” with the other cool kids. But that doesn’t mean I like to “like.” I worry that if I don’t “like” a picture of a Schnauzer wearing a yamaka, the cyber cops will taser my keyboard.

For someone who already endures a variety of dysfunctions – from ADD to shyness to hopeless neurotic – dealing with Facebook, WordPress and Google is too much information for my pitiful 3.1 pound brain.

Why do the Internet mucky mucks insist I interact with strangers when I should interact with my BFF keyboard instead?

Oh, that’s right. I could do both if I could multitask, another dysfunction of mine, along with disorganization and poor time management skills. I also suck at punctuation.

Too bad the Internet isn’t ADD friendly, yet I can probably make a friend every second I’m online.

Can you say, “Ironic?” Now, Google “ironic” and see how many synonyms you can find. And, oh, by the way, is my avatar fat?

 

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If a blog post falls in my head, does it make a sound?

The silence in my head speaks louder than the brain gremlins feeding on muse droppings and thought decay.

All those lovely ideas scribbled on Post-it-Notes and envelopes, screaming to be saved. They telepathically collect rejection slips, while waiting in the dark chamber of neglect in the lobby of paper limbo.

Post-It Note Impression No. 13

Post-It Note Impression No. 13 (Photo credit: Kevin H.)

I’m still working out the details of the rescue with a team of Navy SEALS that moonlight weekends at the circus balancing ballpoint pens on their noses.

It doesn’t instill confidence. I know. But at least they’re making money, while waiting for my signal to board the bridge to nowhere that extends from the real world to the creative universe in my head.

quinn

quinn (Photo credit: fiddle oak)

It’s a busy place with monochrome ghosts and black holes sucking up the air. Where are the Immigration dudes when you need them? – On the beach of Cozumel sipping Mai Tais with secret service hookers and little green men.

Little green men figure

Little green men figure (Photo credit: twistypiper)

Is there poetic justice? No. Writing just is a twist of fate.

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Have You Seen This Avatar?


The Google Friend Connect widget, once populated with faces on my sidebar, now appears empty and clueless, a border of its former self.

On March 1st, Google discontinued Google Friend Connect on all non Blogger sites. Since that day “that will live on in infamy,” I’ve tried to find a Google Friend Connect plugin or widget that works on a WordPress site.

So far, no luck in finding one.

To avoid a brain melt, I decided to put Google Friend Connect on hold and add Google Plus to my sidebar. I found a Google Plus plugin, activated it and then – nothing.

Okay, I admit I’m a bit of a technotard. Solving technical problems makes my brain hurt and sends me into apoplectic shock. My right brain overrides my left brain and chaos ensues, then I lose ability of all cognitive thought, also known as a fluster fuck.

When I get flustered, I start foaming at the mouth and overlook the important words on a page. Kind of like hysterical blindness or a blank ditz moment.

Because when words look like this . . .

<embed src=”yourfile.mid” autostart=”true” hidden=”false” loop=”false”>
&amp;lt;&amp;lt;span class=”hiddenSpellError” pre=””&amp;gt;bgsound&amp;lt;/span&amp;gt; src=”yourfile.mid” loop=”1″&amp;gt;

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A Left Brain Plot to Kill a Right Brain Post

Image via Wikipedia

Fear hangs out with the letters on my keyboard among the dust clusters and granola bar crumbs.

Actually, fear appears as a red herring, a fishy character that presumably kills off my blog post. But I know the real perpetrator, Perfectionism.

The Perfectionist evil doer hijacks my brain, duct tapes my arms to the chair, and shoves a Cashmere sock in my mouth.

Bound and gagged, I’m forced to stare at a white screen with a gray border, not boarder, although Gray never checks out, unlike my distant cousin Focus.

At least, I don’t have to make Gray breakfast or change the linens on the bed. How could I with my hands duct taped to a chair?

I just wish Gray and White weren’t on the same page. Gray darkens the psyche and White never shimmers like a high-gloss shine.

Whose idea was it anyway to align a shady squatter with a faded screen icon.

Both hold inspiration prisoner in a dark subterranean room, while Perfectionism rewrites the sentences.

“Keep your damn hands off my words,” I say telepathically.

Then add, “You won’t get away with this. You meddling bitch.”

And she didn’t.

Unbeknown to my restrained right brain, an anonymous tip from a desktop informant alerted the literary authorities of my inspiration’s incarceration.

The SWAT team arrived, smacked the evils doers with the taskbar then removed the duct tape from my arms.

I opened my eyes to a normal window view with an expanse of white space to the right.

Thanks a lot, SWAT.

You saved me from perimeter torture and gray and white page border blight.

The Irrational Fear of Blogging

I woke up today and remembered that I had a blog.

I’m slightly amnesic after a Google search algorithm sideswiped me while I was surfing Craigslist. I also might be HTML intolerant.

Pavlov

Pavlov (Photo credit: sclopit)

Lately, the word “blog” sounds more like “blahg” when it rolls off my tongue, as if a rotten pistachio nut left a bad taste in my mouth.

Maybe it has something to do with watching five minutes of the new Fear Factor, or motion sickness from the dizzying swings of the S&P.

Or maybe because I fell off a pile of bills and hit my head at the bottom of my bank account.

I’m also pretty sure that that derelict Fear regularly squats on my shoulder, plunging the northern region of my torso into freezing temperatures.

All those ideas I scribbled onto scraps of paper went MIA, lost somewhere on my desk, or in my mind, after a Wizard of Oz squall sent me back to Kansas in an invisible hot air balloon, as I clicked my heels together three times in an attempt to kill yellow brick road ants that infested my shoes.

And those 3,080 emails clogging up my inbox might be a problem, or perhaps my neurotic perfectionist tendencies that encourages me to save. I hope my compulsion lands me a show on the Discovery Channel about email hoarding.

Reading blogs used to release dopamine into my brain and send coffee spurting from my nose. Now it just elicits a swift kick to the gut and a panicked grip to the windpipe.

Damn shoulder squatter!

What’s the problem? I love interacting with virtually every species of avatar.

Maybe earthling matters have clouded my perception. Writing a memoir squeezes the creative juices from my brain.

I’m also exhausted working three days a week, as a part-time desk jockey, earning dog food pay.

Because I’m Pavlov’s human, my dogs torture me every day. They’re always barking up the wrong tree. You know, the one that fell without a sound when I wasn’t around the other two days.

Pavlov's Bell(Dreaming.....on the Starlight train)

Image by mRio via Flickr

It’s time to wake up and spurt the coffee.

I won’t let fear – of what I don’t know – keep me away from the blogosphere.

Maybe, I’ll Google cyber shrinks and then dive this time, thus avoiding the concussive effects of an errant algorithm wave.

 

Does Fear ever squat on your shoulder?

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Totally Retro-spective!

Some simple cutout cookie cuttersImage via Wikipedia

When I started blogging two plus years ago, I had zero readers but that was irrelevant. Having an outlet to keep me sane was my prime directive.

Earthly writing also kept me sane but required at least 5,000 words, the typical length of a short story, my chosen literary genre.

Whereas, blog posts averaged 300 words, a shorter less formal vehicle for spewing my thoughts. No fuss. No muss. No rejections from editors. During that emotionally fragile time, I couldn’t handle failure on a creative level when I had already been leveled on the 9-5 playing field.

Current playing field hours 11-4 — Priceless!

This weird trip I’m on began two years ago after I left my job of nearly ten years for what I thought would be an opportunity working as a customer service rep for a bakery where the cupcakes were nut-free, but the owner was not.

Image via Wikipedia
Three months later, as I sifted through online job sites for other employment opportunities, I saw my job posted on Craigslist. When I confronted the head pistachio in charge, he confirmed my suspicions.

I learned through a clandestine call from the production manager, who was hiding off site in the bakery, that the gal who preceded me was also let go at the three month mark, which also turned out to be true with gal number three, who followed me … out the door. They say that bad things happen in threes.  

One of these days, we’ll find out who they are.

In the bakery business, they also like to say, “That’s how the cookie crumbles,” an old cookie cutter proverb.

If only my days had cookie cutter boundaries. A wise old woman, who also happens to be my mother, once said, “You need structure.” Mothers always seem to know. After all, they have eyes in the back of their heads. At least most moms do. I’m a mother, too, but don’t possess rear-view vision. The only object that appears larger in my mirror is my butt.  I can’t see ten feet in front of me or ten feet behind my behind.

That is why the road I travel in life requires a GPS system and a street with double yellow lines. Without lines, my ADD mind veers off onto the breakdown lane or takes the next exit to windy back roads.

ADD tangents lead my thoughts astray, a directionless joyride that never ends. On an ADD trip, Point A never leads to Point B and usually ends up at Point P, Q, or Z. All the while the calendar on the wall and clock just laugh at me.

Soon after the bakery owner cut off my dough, I moved into a blog lot in Blogger Shanty town and started writing about my daze while sending out hundreds of resumes into the employment black hole.

My first post on Friday, May 29, 2009 summed up my predisposition for getting lost in my head, the ADD road map to nowhere.

Today Friday

A day without work. At home trying to get organized. A problem. Always. Can’t reign in my thoughts to stabilize the content in my head. The executive function in my brain takes too many coffee breaks, gets in late, and leaves early. The proverbial cluttered mind with a desk by the window. I look outside and see trees but can’t see the forest through them …

As I look out the window at 12:00 a.m., all I see is the black glut of night. I know the trees are there somewhere. I guess I’ll have to wait until daylight to see them.

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From Rants to Riches. I Got Blog Bling!

Actually, I, ahem, received two awards, one from my awesome blog buddy Mrs. Blogalot, and the other from a new awesome blog buddy Fire Crystals. Geez, doesn’t anyone have names like Pam or Lisa anymore?

Without further ado, here’s the Must Read award from a Must Read lady who is absolutely enchanting, hilarious, and an all around great gal. Making a cameo appearance with a badge from the Blogalot Times, heeeeeere’s MrsBlogalot. Bet you can’t read her blog just once.

Mrs. B’s “A Must Read Award”

Now to the Merry Musings of Fire Crystals. Though, friend, I hardly know ye well, I can tell you’re are the salt of the earth, engaging, and write with a flair. Please stop by to see what’s on Fire’s mind but don’t get too close. This blog is hot!

Fire Crystals “The Versatile Blogger Award”

The Versatile Blogger Award comes with a rider attached – List 7 Random Facts About Myself. I’m also supposed to give the award to 15 bloggers, but I’ll leave that up to you, dear readers. If you’d like to take the plunge, please grab the badge and have some fun. Please say that Lauren sent you.

7 Random Facts About Myself

1.    I live at the top of a mountain with an ecosystem that is different from every place that falls below the bottom of our access road. During the winter, the carting company didn’t pick up our garbage for an entire month. The trucks couldn’t get up the steep hill. I couldn’t walk down the steep hill whilst being leash dragged by my dog or I wouldth landed on my ass.

2.    I’m shy and awkward in a crowd. I used to be glib and able to work a room but when God handed me the 50-year milestone, it weighed down my brain, as well as my ass, breasts, and stomach.

3.    I believe in ghosts. I see dead people!but only on TV. I believe that one of our previous homes was haunted. Unrelated to that, a year ago in the early hours of the morning while awakening, I heard my grandmother call my name.

“She’s dead, Jim.”

“But Captain, I’m giving her everything she’s got!”

“She’s still dead, Jim!”

4.   I have difficulty with change, not the copper kind. To help me explain, here’s what Dictionary.com says about change: to transform or convert (usually followed by into): The witch changed the prince into a toad. – Not my doing!

My brain gets stuck whenever I try something new. I have to yank hesitant thoughts out of brain sludge then give them a good shove.

5.   I have two mutts, a male and female, plus a cat. The male, Jake, has dry eyes, the, uh, er, bitch, Jenny, has two new knees or ligaments; the cat’s stomach sweeps the floor while she shuffles. Jenny’s a bitch because she broke the fence yesterday, and I had to chase her around the neighborhood. She thought it was a game!

6.   My brain never stops grinding out weird thoughts. I get ideas 24/7. Sometimes I feel like a medium, except that my ideas are alive and don’t leave cold spots on the rug. My ideas are the bright lights you see at the end of a tunnel, not oncoming headlights.

7.   I’m a bit of a drama queen. I become unhinged if something angers or upsets me. I guess you’d say I am passionate but I’m also a child. Speaking of children. I have a 21-year-old son. Pretty good for a kid, huh? Or not. I absolutely am not a proponent of teen pregnancy. Today, I will not touch the subject with a ten-foot pole or Armenian.

Do you see dead people?
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