A couple of weeks ago Husband said that it would be cool if I had a food-only blog like a friend-of-a-friend does. I shrugged. "I don't want to play the game," I said.
You know the game. It is being played and there are conventions and coffee shops full of players.
Oh, I flirted with the game last year. I was finally ready to break free of my self-imposed social exile and network. I did some things, went to some stuff, and met some people. The people were cool. But there was this pervasive feeling of validation-grabbing that was completely off-putting. So I stepped back. I looked closer at the game. The game was filled with corporate shills, mommybloggers looking for a handout, desperate acts of attention-seeking, and selling of souls and dignity.
I ran the fuck away.
Thankfully I found a different social group.
When I was around other local bloggers one thing stood out: me. I am not like these people. I may be the same age as some of these folks, but I felt like a black dude in China. Them: put together, eloquent, coiffed, made up, handbag carrying, social, seemingly mature adults. Me: old band t-shirt, thrown-together hair, awkward. Them: chatting about the latest romcom/TV show/stock portfolio/corporate sponsorship. Me: "I LIEK TURTLES."
I'm pretty sure I should feel like an adult, what with the child and mortgage and career and such. But the truth is that I want to sit around the house in my underwear and play Minecraft while drinking beer, listening to punk rock and old anime soundtracks, and eating Snickers ice cream bars.
I told my husband that I write this blog for me. It is my outlet. If anyone comes along and reads it, well hell, that's awesome. If someone wanted to meet up for coffee or needed a hand with something, I'm there. But if not I'll still be here playing my own game.
Miscellaneous crap pertaining to the in-between life of an in-between girl called PikaPikaChick.
