It wasn’t very long ago that my publisher told me to do some social marketing, update my website and include a blog. I’m pretty sure I groaned and made a pathetic looking face. I fully realize I’m one of about fifteen people on the face of the earth who is not into social media, but there you have it. But for all that I resisted, it turned out to be kind of fun – sort of like the marriage counseling I went through when my marriage broke up many years ago.
By the time my ex, who was my current at the time, admitted there was a problem with our marriage (as evidenced by the hostility, arguments, sustained silences and boxes I was packing) and wanted to seek the help of a therapist (something I had suggested years before to no avail) I was already done. Emotionally divorced. As in ain’t no turning back. I saw a tiny little light at the end of a dark tunnel and I wanted it. Although I saw no point in seeing a therapist at that juncture, I agreed to it for the sake of the separation going as smoothly as it possibly could. I think my ex and I only went together once or twice before the therapist declared we were both pretty damaged and would benefit from individual sessions. (He probably used more precise and politically correct terminology, but that was the gist.) The point is that the consequent solo sessions consisted of me talking about me and my issues, which are my very favorite topics in the whole, wide world. It was highly enjoyable.
But, back to blogging. The only thing that gives me pause about blogging at times is figuring out what to write, but once I pick a topic and get going, it flows. Maybe that’s because I don’t take myself or anyone too seriously. We’re all pretty quirky. Like the other day when I was checking out of the grocery store, the cashier commented that the berry burst Oreo cookies I was buying looked good. “They are,” I assured her, thinking I’d gotten them once before.
“Of course,” she says to me with an apologetic little grimace, “I don’t like Oreos.”
For a moment I’m utterly baffled by the statement. For one thing, who doesn’t like Oreos? For another, uh, why did she say the berry burst Oreos looked good? Was it all a line? Did she really not think my Oreos looked good? “What don’t you like about them?” I asked, sincerely interested in the answer. “Is it the filling?”
She thoughtfully contemplates the question and then decides. “I think it’s the cookie part I don’t like.” Ah, well. Mystery solved. Sort of. Except the question about why they looked good to her in the first place. People are funny. Myself included.