Cool!

I don't blog anymore. I'm sure you noticed. I, who blogged my entire life from the ages of fifteen to twenty-two, no longer blog.

What I can I say?

I don't have time? That's not entirely true. I do have time.
I don't have anything to say? That's also not entirely true. There are lots of things going on and news articles to read. I could have something to say, I just don't have any interest in saying it. If you were to page back through all of those years on my blog, you'd find that I've said the same thing a lot of times and I'm tired of repeating myself. (By the by, i love the "scooters, vacation, fall" labels example.)

So why have I stopped blogging?

Mostly, it's that I just don't care. I like sleep and bad tv and I work and I cook and I've just lost interest. Call it age or call it a desire to develop some semblance for privacy in a world where privacy has gone the wayside, but I no longer endeavor to share my entire world with strangers. I appreciate the catharsis it once gave me but there you go.

Recently, however, I have taken an interest in food bloggers - namely their yum-tastic recipes strewn across the inter-web, so I dusted off the old blogger account to leave a comment here or there...and that's when I realized that, in my absence, I garnered a few comments in my absence.

What fun.

They weren't approved until recently because I didn't notice them, but they're up now and, I'll be honest, they make me a little happy.

Two things occurred to me when I noticed these festivities. 1. What happened to thick skin? I have one. My work, what I do, it's been attacked before. But that's why you do what you do for you, not for the rest of the world. You do it because you like it or because your proud of it or because you thought it was a great learning experience. It should never be said that I don't suck. It should, however, be said that I can own up to those things, lean them up and still look at them with pride enough to say "Hey, I pushed through it. I did it and I got better." because that's what life is and as long as you can say that you can say something. So Maya Marie Haley, should you ever Google yourself again and run across this post - you should know, aside from the fishnet lines (which were sorta squiggly, even you have to know that), that post wasn't to say that you suck at your craft. As I mentioned, I don't know anything about your craft. Whether this is consolation or not - it was to say that your taste in music and fashion as represented in that piece...questionable. And that, yes, I question the sense behind turning My Little Pony, one of the fondest memories of my childhood, into an equine version of a prostitot.

The second thing, and here's where the joy comes in, is that the first vivid image I received was an army of angry teenage girls and their middle aged moms - hair askew, glue guns in hand, glitter on their faces like war paint, rhinestones for projectiles - rushing toward their computers, fingers flying across the keys, to defend a fallen comrade. And that, was fucking funny.