Tag Archives: WordPress.com

Postaday2011: Why Did I Start Blogging?

14 Jan
Nuvola-like mail internet

Image via Wikipedia

My son made me.

Today’s postaday2011 prompt asks why I started blogging.  I started because I was sick of Tory Boy’s nagging.  For years I sent out news emails I called ‘smails’ (because I was too lazy to write ‘news emails’ every time), in a similar style to this blog.  People often asked me to add a friend or relative to my mailing list; by the time I stopped I was sending smails to about forty-five family, friends and strangers. 

Trouble was, no-one ever replied.  I would get emails from those same people on other matters, but hardly ever on the smail subjects.  I reached the point where I wondered if I was talking to myself.  Not beyond the realm of possibility, because the smails were usually seven or eight pages long and who has enough time in their day to be bored by a stranger’s rabbiting?  It’s much better this way, where people who are interested come to my blog (better not mention my blog is linked to Facebook and Twitter so I’m kind of thrusting it in the world’s face).

Tory Boy nagged me for about eighteen months to start a blog and I finally got sick of his moaning and I did it to shut him up.  Of course, he was right: I am addicted, and I was from the first week.  It’s not just the writing; it’s the bonus of the fascinating people I’ve met online, who live such different lives to mine.  I love reading about their doings.

But the best part is the instant feedback in the comments box: ego-stroking is a nice way to start the day.  So, thank you, dear readers.  Please remember to wash your hands on the way out.

Stress: The Best WordPress Prompt Yet

6 Jan
Maltesers in a tray.

Image via Wikipedia

(Not really; I just like the assonance)

I get stressed at breaking promises.  Yesterday, I promised you a poem a day over on my other blog but I have already broken my word.  I am lying here on my sick bed typing this, my South African poems neatly tucked up in my memory stick in a box in the kitchen cupboard.  I couldn’t go down to get it if a bag of Maltesers depended on it (I think now you will comprehend the seriousness of my malaise).  Fortunately for me I never signed anything, so you can’t sue me.

That’s not the case for this blog: I did sign up for postaday2011 and I’m stressing that I might miss a post and it’s only the sixth day of what looks like being a rather long blogging year.

I’m stressed by predictive text.  I can not send a text to save my life or those Maltesers.  The phone hardly ever shows the word I’m looking for and when it does, I don’t know how to scroll down to it.  Assuming I have any money on my phone to send a text, that is: I always seem to be running out even though I never call or text anyone.  My nephew gave me a new old phone before Christmas and I’m certain it is possessed: it kept dialling up the internet in my pocket and spent £9.47 before I noticed.  On porn, probably; why else access the internet in secret?  Mind you, for £9.47 it will have been lucky to see a naked finger.

I’m stressed sometimes at living in a mess.  The Hub has been refused access to the new kitchen and bathroom and I take refuge there when his model aeroplanes, airline wings, pins and cards that keep him sane in his illness threaten to send me over the edge.

I’ll tell you what I’m not stressed at; in fact I’m impressed with: the many ways I can STRESS a word like ‘stress’, or any

  • other
  • word
  • I
  • choose
  • to
  • discuss

Ain’t personal computing grand?  If you know what you’re doing, that is; which, thankfully, some of my readers do so my Word documents no longer show every ‘Enter’ button I’ve ever pressed.  Thank you, one and all, for the advice.  I knew I could count on you.

Down to business: my body is in distress and I could be depressed but I’m blessed with the gift of constant happiness; all I need is rest.  I confess I’ve put on a vest at the Hub’s behest; he’s prepared some cress in a lettuce nest; we’ll let it digest then play some chess: the winner has to do impressions of Herman Hesse, Sharon Gless, Elliot Ness and a dog called Jess who is a bit of a pest.  Lest we feel oppressed, it’s done in jest; it’s not a test.

I like to think I’m the greatest rhymer in the West, but I guess this is the end of my quest to rhyme every possible word with ‘stress’ and ‘WordPress’.  I know there’s still ‘tress’ but I’ve done my best.  If you’re aware of more, do share at this address in your largesse.  Don’t suppress them unless it’s necessary in the name of progress.  Nevertheless, have an ego caress for your cleverness.

postaday2011

3 Jan
Image representing WordPress as depicted in Cr...

Image via CrunchBase

If you often laugh at this housewife you are either my husband or a regular visitor to this site and you will know that I blog almost every day.  However, I missed seventeen blogging days in 2010 so I have signed up to WordPress’s postaday2011.  A couple of the missed days will have been because I left it late and the time difference meant my post at 11p.m. showed on next day’s date at 0a.m.  But there were enough missed days when I couldn’t be bothered or couldn’t think of anything, so I have taken the pledge.

Don’t worry, dear reader: this will not affect you in any way, unless you are willing to offer the occasional encouraging comment to keep me going.

I’m not off to a bad start: it is Dehrr Three in the New Year House and Tilly has managed not only to suddenly start speaking in the third person in a Geordie accent; but also to write seven posts.  It bodes well for me, if not for your eyes or your boredom threshold.  I wrote 409 posts last year: if the past three days are an indicator, you can look forward to 912 posts in 2011.

You might want to reconsider the nature of your encouraging comments.

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