There’s this blog I like

Something weird happened yesterday. I was reading this week’s Gargleblasters, preparing to vote for my favorites, and I came across one that I really liked.

This particular Gargleblaster used a photo that grabbed my attention, an old black and white of soldiers by a trench, some lying dead in it, some standing next to it. I had an immediate emotional reaction to that photo, probably because my grandfather died in WWII. Have I mentioned that before?

In any case, the photo grabbed my attention, and the 42 words that followed kept it. They described a man buried alive with his dead comrades. It was brutal and lovely image. Even grammatically incorrect as they were, those 42 words managed to pack a punch.

I turned my attention to the (extremely plain) blog header and I found the title, Irrational Realist, unfamiliar but incredibly evocative. Obviously my next step was to click on the About page to find out a bit more. Unfortunately, there was no personal description of any sort, only a public blog roll. And that’s when things got weird. The blogger had included only two other blogs, the first of which was mine. Weird, right?

Had I been able to, I would have left a comment on this new blog, introducing myself. However, I don’t have a Blogger account, or one in any of the other formats permitted in this blogger’s comment box. So here I am, composing this public introduction.

If you are the writer of the blog Irrational Realist, I am curious about you. Welcome to the blogosphere, or whatever you call it. I’d like to understand more about irrational realism. It resonates with me. If you’re reading this, then you know where to find me.

I hate mirrors


I don’t have a lot of mirrors in my house. There are the usual ones above the sink in the bathrooms, and one full-length in my bedroom. Don’t get me wrong, I like to look nice. I spend the requisite half-hour in front of my mirror each morning, putting on makeup and blow-drying my hair. I check to make sure that my outfit looks good before I leave my room. You know, the usual stuff.

But seeing my reflection throughout the day has never been high on my list of priorities. Once I check in the morning, I’m pretty much set for the rest of the day. Unless it’s date night or girl’s-night out, I just don’t look in the mirror on purpose. It’s no big deal, but every once in a while if I catch a glimpse of myself that isn’t quite right, I feel bad for the rest of the day. So I try not to let that happen.

But if this blog were a mirror of me? Well, I think it’s obvious that it would be cracked, shattered into hundreds of tiny slivers, held together as if by magic. Each shard would reflect a different angle, a separate moment, a fragment of me. You’d glimpse my dark hair here, my green eyes there, my smile, my tears, my memories each locked in its own little piece. All together the pieces would barely make sense; you might not grasp just how usual I am in reality. You might think that you know something about me, and then you’d blink or change position, and that image would vanish, replaced by another, equally powerful one.

And me? I’d be behind the scenes, rearranging the shards like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle just to short out your assumptions. Don’t ever believe what you read online.


There’s this blog I like

So, I’ve been blogging since March. And a couple of months ago I started following the blog link-up over at Yeah Write. Like most new bloggers, I’m trying to drum up readers, so I try to make the rounds and read what everyone posts once a week. Sometimes I’m better at it than other times. But there’s one blog that I really like, and I always check it out when I see it in the lineup.

Joe, over at Living in Kellie’s World, caught my eye right away, because, well, he’s hot. Check out his photo if you don’t believe me. He knows a thing or two about women. He’s good, for a guy. And he’s funny, which keeps me coming back. Plus, he’s smart. He reads.

The best thing about him is how much he truly seems to love and want to please his wife. From what I know about men, very few take the time to create a whole blog documenting their efforts to please their wives. Joe, I wish you were friends with my husband, Geoff. I have a feeling you’d be a good influence on him.

Here’s the thing. Week after week I try to comment on Joe’s blog. I craft friendly-but-not-too-friendly compliments, I suggest that he submit his posts to a publication with a larger audience. I do all the things that groupies do. And every week, no matter which format I use to submit, Joe’s blog rejects my comment. It’s weird.

Joe, what’s up with that?