I noticed tonight that your blog is acting funny. I hope blogger's down. Because I'm really concerned that you let this stupd know-nothing whom your esteemed and slightly psychotic father took a beating to behind the woodshed this evening seriously. I mean, I'm worried you took your blog down. Don't do that. Kay?
I don't want you to--you know why? Because you are interesting and you do have something to say and we need to hear it. And when you don't have something to say (that's us most of the time... shhh... don't tell the rest of the world... they just got to thinking we're kind of important...) you go ahead and say nothing. Or something. Or you post a picture. Or one word. Or whatever the hell you want.
That's why we--stinking what's-his-loser-face not included in the "us" in we--are here. Believe it or not, and you might not believe it because of the venomous fiddle-faddle (do they still say fiddle-faddle?) our wanabe blogger friend posted, we're just a group of people trying to make our way across this rocky planet a little bit easier, with a little more fun and a little more caring, than we would have if we stayed outside this web of voices we call Blogland.
You know why else I want to read you? Because you speak for me too. Because I wish I could have blogged when I was 13. Because my family life and my school life and my heart had me, shall we say, twisted up in knots when I was 13? Yeh, that works for me. Knotted up inside. And if I had been writing out loud then, I think I might have found my voice--myself--before I hit 40, before I had a daughter of my own, and I might even have come to understand and love myself sooner.
That's heavy, I know. And I'm waahaaay on the other side of 13 now. But there's something in this writing out loud thing. And it's something big. And you ARE important and strong and smart and funny enough to join us. And when you don't want to be smart or funny, we'll read you and talk back. And when you do want to engage us and jolt us, we'll be there then too.
Just don't go to your father's blog too often. He posts some, well, slightly objectionable material from time to time... But then, what would one expect?
All I know is that if I could be 13 again, I'd like to come back here. Online. And I'd like to know that I could withstand the garbage from brainless, spineless idiots. See it for what it is. Say, hey, I'm better than that. And I would have liked to learn to do that that through my words, my writing, my wit, my intellect sooner. Don't forget, I talked to you on the phone and read your blog, and then throw in your parents' genes, and well... just understand that I know you have some stuff to say.
It's risky here too. People will come along and push you around because 1) they're jealous, 2) they're stupid 3) they're stupid and jealous. It's kind of like real life that way. But it also gives you a chance to say NO. You can't do that to me. Screw you. And mean it.
Finding your voice does that for you. Practicing it here--that's what we're all doing. We're just practicing. We don't know a damn thing, and don't let that idiot imply that anyone here--him especially--does. We don't know what were up to. We're just doing. We're just making music by swapping links instead of parts, jamming with words instead of notes, rapping if you will. And we make mistakes and screw up. We pull posts and we even take our blogs down for a while.
But we come back talking. We come back with our voices even stronger than when we hushed up. And that, Mirage, is the point.
See you on the flip side? I'm betting I do sooner or later. ;-)
