Agony, Ecstasy, Peanuts

Some people think that writing a blog is, like, easy.

Some people are wrong. And stupid. Some are also bald and smelly.

Writing a blog is hard work; hard, oft-unpleasant, usually unpaid work that people only do in an attempt to stave off the realization that they are attention whores of the first degree. So needless to say, half the time it's an exercise in enduring failure on a massive scale (well, not massive exactly; if you're "not much of a writer," only three or four people will ever read your blog, and they'll drop out in short order if you can't come up with a more interesting topic than the color and consistency of Baby's First Poop). It tends to involve much glaring at a (blank) "Create Post" page and muttering to oneself about the futility of the process and, by extension, life itself. (No one ever even READS THIS SHIT! I might as well die. Et cetera.) Very frustrating.

And my past attempts at a blog have been kind of like that. Actually, they've been that. Minus the copious mentioning of Baby's First Poop. I try to avoid topics that are obviously boring and/or nasty (and if you're wondering how it is that anyone can mention the color of that particular nascent bodily function more than once, well, lucky you... believe me when I tell you that it's possible). Plus I don't have a baby.

However, I believe I have discovered my problem. My "weak link." My kryptonite. My undoing. My downfall. My pretty boy after a year of celibacy. As it were.

I've been far, FAR too serious.

In general, I mean, not just in Blogland. Really, this is a big problem. In my daily life, I have often been told that I tend to look and act VERY solemn. Grave. Scare children, and so forth. And frankly, I have no idea where this comes from because underneath my funeral-director exterior I am one bubbly, happy, well-adjusted, cheerful member of the human race. In point of fact, I am actually one of the most merry people you could ever hope to have the pleasure of meeting.

(Pause for laughter.)

Okay! Okay! It was JUST A JOKE!

(Laughter continues, raucous.)

That's enough laughing, now.

(Geez, is it that bad?)

Anyway, I've thought long and hard about this (and a very emotional and soul-probing sixteen minutes that was, let me tell you) and I have definitely decided that the time has come to (sigh) Lighten Up. Loosen my Relentless Maturity belt a few notches. Really, just because life is not a box of chocolates and bad things always happen in threes and the wettest day of the year always comes when you've forgotten your umbrella and cliches are an unfortunate and common fixture of daily life much like the chickenpox was somewhat of a fad in second grade, that does NOT mean that we should dwell on negativity every waking moment. We have our sleeping moments, after all.

So here it is, My Point: I want to begin a journey today, right here, right now (July 9th, 2008 at 9:26 pm, Eastern Standard Time, in case you were curious) toward a jollier me. Less Rabbit, more Tigger, that's what I need in my life. I wish to write a lighthearted blog in which I attempt to be funny, probably aided by heavy plagiarism of the blog which inspired this ambitious project and an online thesaurus (what, you thought I came up with a word like nascent all by my lonesome? Aw, you flatter me).

And I don't work well under pressure. Well, sometimes I work well under pressure. A lot of times. Actually, I do my best work under pressure. Look, here's where I'm going with this: I'm not going to share this blog with anyone until I'm convinced that it has hit acceptably funny levels of snark. Then I will share it with everyone I know, starting with my loved ones and ending with the adoring public/devoted following which should rapidly develop.

Hence: If you are reading this, I've decided (and really, I'm the best possible judge of this, being not in any way biased) that it's funny! Isn't that great? Why are you shaking your heads in a manner that clearly denotes your opinion of my pathetic assessment of my own wit?! Throw me a bone here! You're a loved one of mine! Or a member of my adoring public/devoted following! Either way, hadn't you better be a little nicer to me?

Anyway, I would like to be the author of a Funny Blog. Wish me luck. Wishing me failure is very mean.

Lady Snark, at your service. Yes, I accept tax-deductible donations.