This will be random, but here goes.
I stumbled across the completely amazing works of Soizick Meister. I bought the book of pictures of Mr. M. I now want the prints.
I won several auctions in ebay. All things people don’t want anymore, but things that I do want. An 80 year old enamel cake tin. A 70 year old French light. A 70 year old German hand-cranked coffee grinder. These things went for next to nothing, but I want them. I had this philosophy as a kid – I would buy the stuffed animal at the shop that had problems, because no one else would want them and I would love them. Inevitably the collection I had consisted of teddy bears with wonky ears and missing eyes, dolls that had two left feet. I was the collector for the Island of Misfit Toys. I continue that today with things that people won’t want anymore, but which I superficially feel the need to tell them that I will love them and care for them.
Also on ebay, I think this guy is the shit. And I want the superhero squirrel, only I can’t justify it and it’s the very definition of Mrs. Farmer.
Some lovely old friends came for curry night last night. They brought their aging Weimaraner, who had just had surgery. Said Weimaraner was lovely and a delight, who got along well with Gorby. He decided to go upstairs at one point which, courtesy of Jeff’s allergies, Gorby is not allowed to do. Maggie, who thinks of the upstairs as her own personal safe zone, was not pleased. We heard the sound of a 10 pound feline blowing a synapse at the sight of a 120 pound pony dog cruising around upstairs.
The week is about to kick off, and from the moment the alarm goes off, it will be hitting the ground running. I’m painting the master bedroom, getting ready for Melissa and Jeff, and oh yes – two board meetings this week. I don’t say this to big myself up, I am not in the least important. I say this more to get into something that’s been on my mind.
I am a busy woman. I’m not important, I’m not special, I’m not precious. I’m just busy. I’m one of three people with my own very specific qualifications in a company that I genuinely love working for, and I actually mean that. I work my fucking ass off during the week, evenings are spent with the family and doing those quiet little things that just need doing (like laundry and dishes, lest we go naked and hungry) and weekends are spent trying to renovate this house which could just easily eat us alive. I’m not special. But I do work full-on during the work week.
On the question site last week someone asked if I knew who the long-term admirers are, and if I gave a shit about them. That question has been playing on my mind a lot, actually, so whoever wrote it, if you were in a bad place when you wrote it, then I understand and you passed it on. I gotcha’.
I started this site almost 7 years ago, which makes me elderly in blog terms. I’ve been around a long time. One thing’s for sure – I have changed. That’s what happens when you get older. It is also what happens when what you write has weight to it, it can hurt some, it can help others. I started this site for me, it was my way to talk about things I wasn’t allowed to talk about and which I needed to make myself deal with. It remains that today. Yes, I am only too aware that I write these things out in a public forum, I’m not stupid (although to the commenter a few years ago who wrote, angrily, that why didn’t I update seven days a week, what about her needs, I say this: Seriously, move on.) But I still maintain that when I write, I check my mind at the door and let things out. It has quite possibly saved my sanity and, along with my Couch Man, my life.
Do I know who my long-term admirers are? No, absolutely not. Mostly because I don’t have admirers, I have people out there who come by (or not) and relate (or not) and also because I only know about you what you choose to tell me. I don’t want admirers and I don’t think I have them. I’m not a celebrity – I’m a fucking person, a normal person, an average ordinary everyday one who listens to morning drive time radio and despairs ingrown pubic hairs and has a front door that looks like ass. I’m not thinking of my long-term admirers because I don’t have them. I write a site that I love and you know what my favorite time is? De-lurk time. I get to know about people who come by. Honestly, I love it, and not because I get lots of comments but because people take a moment to leave something about themselves. I enjoy reading about you and your lives, believe it or not.
I get things wrong. I hurt people and people hurt me. I don’t email people back all the time because I can’t imagine why they would want to hear from me, and I don’t reply to all comment because, really, ditto the previous part of this sentence. To top it all off I am crazy busy, somewhat flighty, and have a spam filter that eats emails like they’re going out of style. If I have ever made you feel left out, small, unappreciated, or ridiculous, then I apologize. That’s not a nice way to feel and I almost certainly (yes, there are exceptions) wouldn’t have wanted you to feel that way. I never, ever want to hurt people, not ever. But this isn’t about me collecting admirers. This is about me letting things out, no matter how unpopular they may be, because sometimes people need to let things out.
So for this, I say: I am human. I am normal. I am not here to run a popularity contest and I don’t view it as one. I am not special (and I am not writing that as a hook for people to rush and say otherwise, I genuinely mean that.) I am me, with my falling down house and my two breathtaking toddlers and my partner that I love so very much after all that we have been through and my new job that I am working on proving myself so very hard in and my book that I want to write even if it goes nowhere and my mental dog and his two monochrome cats.
This is me saying: take me as I am, please, and trust me when I say that I am a very ordinary girl in a very extraordinary world. Because I am. And it is. And if we can move on from this, that’d be good.
I’ve ordered a Yo Gabba Gabba DVD for the twins, which we can’t get in this house as we have Freesat. Please don’t let me regret it.
And thank you. Just…thank you.
-S.
This is the lame excuse for not emailing me back? FAIL. I wanted to hear that it was because you were abducted by God, who was pissed off at you for using his name in order to boss people around for money.
You are one of those people expected to forgive me under “flighty”!
I must correct you. You are important and special and precious. To many many people.
I get what you are saying. But even though we have never met face to face (although I will hold you to your promise to buy the first round when you come to Sydney :) ), I care about you and what happens to you. The people we care about are special to us, even if (maybe especially if) they don’t feel special themselves.
I like what Amanda said and I will promise to buy the first round if you ever come back to NC! For some unaccountable reason, I care a lot about you and your family, and you don’t have to comment on my blog or email me for me to keep feeling that way!
Yo Gabba Gabba, you’re going to regret that. How about I send you some special eye gouging spoons to go along with it?
re the rest, I understand. To me, and this is me who lurked for a very long time because I couldn’t fathom commenting, you’ve never seemed unapproachable. Busy yes, unapproachable, or uncaring, no. (Am not sure I’m saying this right).
Anyway, keep writing, I’ll keep reading and next time you come to Australia, if you miss Tasmania, I will pout in your general direction. For a little while at least.
All of those reasons why you feel don’t have/need/want admirers, those are the things I admire and respect the most.
You are precious and special. I bet you are precious and special to very many people, and not only to people you actually know and have met. I’ve been through some very rough times (infertility, ICSI, donor sperm, anxiety, depression and so one – jolly, jolly) and I was searching for infertility blogs last summer when I found your blog. I immediately bookmarked it. I think I’ve read most of your archives. I’ve cried very hard over some of your posts, I’ve been ridiculously happy over others … You have inspired me so many times in so many ways. I love your writing, you have a wonderful way with words – and as I’m a wannabe writer I relish in reading well written text. I love your humour and honesty. I love reading about your work ambition, your family and pretty much everything you write about. I honestly look up to you.
I’m very sorry if that’s creepy or unnerving. I really only mean it as a compliment. You are so very inspirational. You are also very obviously one busy lady and I can’t understand why anyone would actually have felt the need to send you such a rude request …!
(P.s. I’m Icelandic so my spelling might not be very good, I hope you get what I’m saying though!)
ah the joys of Yo Gabba Gabba. The green man scares me, seriously freaky with his arms. I hear the songs in my sleep. Have banned the 4 year old from watching it since the jingles get stuck in my head. “So yummy there is a party in my tummy” is a horrifying song that will run through your head at the most inopportune times. It really isn’t all that bad, just something to poke fun at.
Yo Gabba Gabba – ugh. They look like dog toys to me. Obnoxious ones like the damn squeaky things that are underfoot constantly in my 3 dog house.
That show is banned in my house because it makes me crazy. And because that stupid “Yummy in my Tummy” song gets stuck in my head.
Like it is again now. Thanks.
:)
I am a long-term admirer- not because I think you are ‘famous’ or ‘special’, but because you feel like one of the voices inside my head: smart, sometimes prickly, loving, contentious, self-flagellating, comforting. In real life I have a hard time opening up with my problems- I am very much one of the everything is great, nothing to see here people. Happy smile on the outside makes it all better. But, inside I am full of questions and there is a constant battle between the shiny happy people side of my brain and the darker doubting side.
You often cause me to look inside and try to evaluate which voice is my true voice.
Thank you.
I admire that you are honest and say what you are thinking. I think too many people are fake. I see you as a normal person with assets and flaws and I see you as busy. I’ve never felt slighted and never meant to comment anything that would ever hurt your feelings, although I’ve definitely come across the wrong way before. I enjoy your refreshing honesty and many times I’ve been nodding my head alongside your words. You’ve made me laugh, cry, and pause thoughtfully. Of course, given that we’re two different people I’ve also shook my head and wondered about some beliefs… But that’s what happens when you have two different people thinking about the same subject. It’s not a bad thing.
As a side note, I did not ask the question about the admirers. I sometimes wonder if you even have a clue who I am or the long ass e-mail I sent you about baby equipment and what not a long time ago. I did change domains and stuff. I know that some of my commenters I don’t know that well, and it can create this weird relationship where one person knows so much about the other, yet that person is clueless of the first. (Did that make sense?) I feel like I could go to England and plop down in one of your chairs and drink a bottle of wine and talk about vegetarian food, but you have no clue who I am! It’s weird.
hah. I just come by to annoy you by telling you I’ll pray for you at times when you and God are not on speaking terms. (Perhaps another reason for the abduction, Statia?)
all I can think of right now is…”you like me, you really like me”.. maybe.
Well, I am a new visitor (just found you a month ago) and I like it here and I like what you do and who you are – and of course, your ingrown pubic hairs are just a FAB bonus ;)
What you write here has genuinely helped me in the past as I’m sure it has many, many others. You are incredibly generous in the way you write this blog with honesty and truth, humour, sadness and wit. It’s like letting us all look through a window into the life of a real person, not an airbrushed account of what people assume they should portray.
I’m also sure people understand you are incredibly busy and aren’t offended if you can’t email them back. I don’t know how you fit so much into your days. You honestly are superwoman to me – no matter how ordinary you think you might be!
Yo Gabba Gabba, huh?? I am so sorry – the creators clearly did too much acid in college or something. My 10 month old son has catapulted right over Elmo and Sesame Street and all of the things that his older sister loved, and will sit motionless and enthralled when Gabba comes on. To say that it’s worse than nails down a chalkboard and/or that I’d rather stick my face in a fan is a gross understatement. May you never get stuck singing “there’s a party in my tummy… so yummy… so yummy” in your head all day.
I have to be honest: I freaking love Yo Gabba Gabba. Love. It. Of course, when my children were little I had to endure the Teletubbies, so maybe my standards are low. Seriously, that show cracks me up, and my nephew is mad for it.
And I think you know what you mean to me.
Well, I’m an admirer, and if that makes you uncomfortable then I’m sorry. ;-)
I got used to not getting responses to email and/or comments years ago, so I no longer give it any thought. *lol*
Just keep on being you.
I find Yo Gabba Gabba vaguely amusing, but I’ve only seen it once or twice. Familiarity breeds contempt and all that.
Of course you have admirers – your writing style is captivating, and your experiences are many and varied. But, I don’t think talent makes you responsible for other people (unless you are an attention seeking fame whore).
Believe it or not, it’s your ordinariness (was that a real word?) that appeals the most to the lot of us. The fact that so many of us can relate to bits and pieces of your life, even some of us guys. And your honesty in your writings, your being unafraid to talk about yourself and disclose things you probably never would in normal conversation, has inspired quite a few of us. Some of us even found the courage to start our own blogs and find our own writing voice (raises hand). Face it, in this little corner of the blogging world, you’ve made the ordinary famous. And a lot of it has to do with your writing style, your talent of putting thoughts to type that makes them so clear, so easy to understand and relate to.
Okay, I’ll stop gushing. Just rock on, and we’ll continue to love you for it. Even when you don’t update for a week, or close comments because sometimes you just don’t want to hear it, or decide to share your mooncup issues with the blogosphere (shudder).
I don’t have any kids, and what I know of Yo Gabba Gabba largely comes from The Soup (this is a dumb question, do you get the E! channel?) – what I know of it sounds awesome, but I am not exposed to it very much, so maybe I would hate it.
It is a dreary morning here on the East Coast of the US, and this morning I sent an email that I am kind of regretting ever even dreaming of writing. Who knows, maybe it will end up having been for the better, but I feel like what was kind of a grasping attempt to shore up a relationship might just have been what ends it.
I think Jen R and Easy summed it up perfectly.
…I can’t imagine why they would want to hear from me…
Pshaw. You know that I dig conversing with you. And I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’ve been a long-time admirer of yours. Okay, it’s not really a secret since I told that a long time ago, but I did want to provide a somewhat contrary opinion.
Those squirrels are seriously disturbing.
I have read, and stopped reading, many blogs but not yours Shannon. I always come back. If you were to drop off I would be very, very sad. I know busy, but my busy doesn’t hold a candle to your busy. Write when you can. We love to hear about your world. Which is wonderfully normal and like mine and in some ways not (an Expat, big Exec).
Blog on sister!
I’ve been reading you since the twins were born because the Pants dotter and her Pants Statia friend do and said I needed to. And I enjoy every bit of your blog just as much as I enjoy theirs. And all this from some one enough to be your Momma! (keep it up, girl, just keep it up)
I’ve been reading here since 2006 I think, maybe even a little earlier than that. Keep on writing, you have a wonderful style that is a pleasure to read. I decided (being inspired by you) to start my own blog. However, about 6 months into it I realized I had no time to update it. Of course, I know you are crazy busy as well, so maybe I’ll try again. Who knows?!
Oh, and about Yo Gabba Gabba? My toddler is watching it right NOW with her sippy cup of milk. My other two kids had Blue’s Clues, (I SO miss that show and with Steve, not Joe), they loved it and I didn’t get any of the songs stuck in my head. Yo Gabba Gabba, is great for the babies, but it really is like crack for them. My youngest daughter wouldn’t watch TV for anything, which is actually a good thing I realize. However, we found Yo Gabba Gabba and she is hooked. She brings us the remote each day and says, “Yo baba? Baba?” Watch out for the songs, the Yummy in My Tummy is bizarre (the food WANTS to be eaten…) and the horribly annoying, “I Tried It And I Like It!!” , mostly bad because the green guy sings it with a very, very whiney voice. Hey at least the kids like it.
You are special to a lot of people…I know others have said it, but it’s worth repeating. If there are some who don’t agree, stuff them! You are special to me and I want to than you for sharing your life with us. Hugs.
I like Yo Gabba Gabba, because it is a show written by geeks for geek kids. After all, one of the creators is the lead of a band called The Aquabats, who perform in dorky superhero costumes and sing songs like “It Was a Pool Party For Everybody In the World.” And they’ve had Jack Black and Weird Al on as guests (as well as having a guy from Devo do drawings and Biz Markie teaching “Biz’ Beat of the Day.”)
So people who think they did acid, no, it’s just that some people are naturally that weird. And I luuuuvs it.
As for admiring— I admire the way you write. I admire that you’re willing to expose a lot of your troubles online. And it’s because of your writing that I understand that you’re human. I’m always pulling for you.
Yo Gabba Gabba is fun, but can sometimes grate on my nerves. R loves it and will sing “Party in my tummy” while he’s eating. He will sometimes stop eating and put his hands on his chunkalicious cheeks and say “OHHHHH NOOOO” the broccoli is sad because it wants to go to the party in my tummy.” So I tell him to hurry up and eat it and then all will be good in his world. And he does.
The “Don’t Bite Your Friends” episode/song was very appropo for R, but we had to modify it to include parents as well. ;)
I read blogs for content and content alone. I am happy I stumbled across yours and thanks for letting us have a peek inside your fish bowl. I’ve since started a few blogs myself that I half-heartedly keep up with.
Yo Gabba Gabba? You are a brave woman, that proves it.
My favorite part about this site us that you are a normal person.
Yo Gabba Gabba is… Let’s say interesting. My nephew loves it and the songs are catchy. There’s a party in my tummy, so yummy, so yummy.
You know…I am a long time reader and I DO admire you. I see myself mirrored in much of what you so eloquently write. I think you speak to many of us in a profound way. I don’t care if you know who I am but I count myself blessed to have a glimpse into who you are. :)
I suspect that this person said what they did because they may feel like you don’t need this blog in quite the same way that they perceived you needed it before. I haven’t been reading since day 1 (I started with the Twisted Ovaries days) but I can tell that your blog has always been highly personal and open. Like you have said before, you had no boundaries, and let everything out on your blog. Now you do have boundaries (which I support fully, btw) and I think maybe some people who have been here forever feel left out. It is obvious you are happy in a more complete way than you have ever been before. Some old readers may feel like you don’t need their support as much, because you are happy, and if anything difficult happens you don’t lay it out on your blog for them to read.
That’s just my theory anyway.
Helen,
I really enjoyed reading your Q&A. You said you regretted giving your real names. Why not go back to using Helen & Angus? I’ve never gotten used to Shannon anyway.☺ I’m sure most of us would accommodate you, and new readers would be none the wiser.
You’re right, all you know about us is what we let you see in our comments. Maybe you should turn the tables and ask your regular commenters 1 or 2 questions.☺ I bet most would answer. That is, if you have any questions for us.
It’s obvious I enjoy hanging out at your blog. Part of it is the differences in people & opinions. It’s true that birds of a feather flock together. So it’s a pleasure for me to come here and hear differing views and espouse mine (which are “different”/annoying to some of y’all☺). I do appreciate you letting me hang out here and am truly sorry for the times I anger you and the other commenters (whether it be yearly, monthly, or weekly). It’s never my aim to antagonize, though sometimes I know it’s the byproduct of speaking what I believe.
Anyway, I thought it might be neat to hear what types of questions you might have for some of your regular commenters. I’ll start it off by answering the 1st question I know you have for me.☺ No, I’m NOT really married to a super model. While she was 5’8″, 110lbs, and VERY pretty when we got married, 3 children and nearly 20 years have left Mrs. Solomon (censored) pounds overweight, grey, and middle aged. But her remaining physical beauty combined with her loving heart make me view her as a super model. So to me, she really is a super-model; because she’s the model of what I’d like my daughters to be like and my son to marry.
I like you. That’s all.