Oh look, I’m blogging. Argh.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love writing. Writing is great. Building worlds is great. Developing characters is great. Coming up with scenario specific insults is simply delightful.
But blogging is something I have to do as myself. Not as a salty character in my book. Just me.
And that makes it infinitely more unbearable.
I mean, who in their right might would want to read about me? I’m no influencer or instagrammer. I don’t have arty photos of my food to post because, well, let’s face it, only sociopaths have the kind of self control it takes to let their food cool and solidify into a goopy mess while they try to get the perfect shot. And also, food wastage pisses me off, but that’s another rant for another time (of perhaps never, if you're in luck).
Neither do I have a colour themed, coordinated wardrobe. I mostly write from home (living the dream! i.e. I don’t need to meet more than the essential number of people) so my uniform is usually an odd combination of my husbands old clothes, or my own clothes that have been stained/torned/ruined to a point where my mother would jump out of her grave and haunt my ass for being seen in them in public. Also, I am Sri Lankan. This means that we don’t buy pyjamas. We wear our old clothes to bed. End of story.
I also detest working out. I mean, I do it because I’m not getting any younger and I fear my early/mid 20s diet of absolutely no vegetables and entire cheese pizzas might catch up with me some day, health-wise. I might even occasionally suggest a workout video or two if you get to know me well enough. Don’t be fooled. I don’t “enjoy the burn.” In fact, it pisses me the hell off that we are socialised into thinking that a painful relationship with our bodies is a positive one. I only work out because heart-disease runs rampant in my family and it seems like the responsible thing to do when you’re in your 30s.
Okay, so I guess the lamest thing in the world is blog about having nothing to blog abut. But you’re here, and I aim to please, so stay tuned to hear me moan about the trials and tribulations of writing, being a dog-mum to my Tasmanian devil reincarnate huskies, and my general displeasures in life. Reader, they are numerous.
Most of my posts will be prefaced by photos of my dogs. It's not because they are relevant in any way to my writing (except as distractions), but because I don't have to worry about copyright issues, and I have them in very steady supply.