Layer Eight Wants Chicken Pot Pie

Posted by Moose on December 10th, 2009. Filed under: My Brain Needs a Drink.

Words have power. Who knew? I have a lot of half-baked thoughts that make it out into the world. Sometimes I wish I could keep my damn mouth shut until I’m sure of what I want to communicate, but it’s usually only after I’ve unhinged my trap and let if flap merrily in the breeze – and heard others’ more measured responses – that I become more sure of what I’m actually thinking.

To the boyfriends who have had to deal with this, I heartily apologize.

I made a couple of flip Twitter comments about pulling down my blog this afternoon and suddenly I’m on a self-referential odyssey through the layers of tripe surrounding my chewy center. Because I’ve been blogging for years and feel a strong affinity for it, I tend to attach a lot of my stuff to this poor, beleaguered url. So when I start thinking that I need to do something new or different or change in some way, I start eyeing my wordpress account and the guillotine. Lately, (ill-advised) comments to that effect have been flying out of my mouth, in a heedless and persistent manner. Which means it’s something I need to inspect. Not because I want to or will delete my blog, but because it’s obviously a trap door to something deeper.

Aforementioned Layers of Tripe

Layer 1: WOE, FOR I ONLY GOT THREE COMMENTS AND THEREFORE NOBODY LOVES ME.

Layer 2: I’m not very good at this, I don’t understand traffic, I don’t know how to get it, and if I want to make my living as a writer I need to figure out how to get people to READ what I write…

Layer 3: Well, for god’s sake. Will you listen to yourself? Take a breath.

Layer 4: People do love you and blog comments are, um, perhaps not the best measure of such things.

Layer 5: Even if nobody loved you, that wouldn’t be the end of the world. You enjoy your own company – perhaps a bit too much. (This idea is more comforting than it appears on its grim little surface.)

Layer 6: Did you noticed that abrupt switch from “I” to “you” – and where it happened? Hello, distancing mechanism! (Stop that.)

Layer 7: I blog and write because I love it and that’s all that really matters.

Layer 8: What do I have to contribute to the world? How can I best do that?

Wow.

Fear is obviously the closest to the surface. The love is deeper down, possibly because it’s not as noisy, but I like to think it’s because it forms the core of why I’m here and why I write. But fear and love can’t exist in the same space. So they swirl around each other like oil and water, sometimes there’s more of one, sometimes more of the other. The one that wins is the one you feed.

It’s tempting to wish I hadn’t said anything on Twitter, partly because it sounds a little hysterical or like I’m begging for reassurance (and maybe I am; see: noisy top layers) – but I’m glad I did. Because it forced me to look closer and clarify what’s really going on in the ever-churning hamster wheel of my brain. I love writing. I love connecting with all of you, even if I tend to lurk rather than engage. I know I can earn my living (incidentally, that’s where this nonsense usually starts). Preferably writing, but certainly somehow. Because I’m capable. All documented evidence to the contrary. Maybe I should stop documenting that evidence. I should definitely take a blow torch to those top few layers.

The one that wins is the one you feed. Time to establish a new meal schedule.

Edit: Thank you, everyone! You’ve all been very gracious and supportive of yesterday’s descent into Self-Esteem Suckhole, and I really appreciate that. That said, I really wasn’t trying to chastise you out for not commenting. That was pretty much the last thing I wanted to do. It was just the current example of my brain’s descent into the depths of Wretched. So I’m going to turn off comments now and RELEASE YOU FROM ANY GUILT.

Related posts:

  1. Who Devised this Idiotic Rule?
  2. I’d Like to Buy a Clue for $200, Pat
  3. I Have an Internet Connection and I Know How to Use It
  4. Pant, Pant…PANT
  5. In The “It’s About Damn Time” Category…

19 Responses to Layer Eight Wants Chicken Pot Pie

  1. greyfavorite

    Ah yes, I know the tripey layers of these internal dialogues well. My eighth layer hopes the pot pie is made with tofu.

  2. abbersnail

    Friend, I can so clearly relate to this! I sometimes feel like my little site must be so silly to everyone except me, because sometimes my traffic is so low. AND! I’ll host a giveaway and get about 20 entries, and watch others’ giveaways with HUNDREDS of entries.

    But you know what? I think it’s all about recognizing it for what it is and moving on.

  3. Elizabeth

    If it makes you feel better, I have these thoughts all the time. And if you weren’t out there on the internet, you would be very very missed.
    Also, your blog always always always makes me want to eat. Now I’m craving chicken pot pie. And dammit, I don’t even LIKE chicken pot pie.

  4. Amy --- Just A Titch

    I think we all feel like this, seriously. There are posts that I think are going to garner a sick amount of comments and the coveted re-tweet and then? SILENCE. I think you’re smart to remember that you write because you love it. And yes, I know I could sit here and cheer you on and tell you how awesome you are and all of that (WHICH YOU ARE) but really, it’s all inside that matters. I also love the changing of the feeding schedule—I hear that. xo

  5. Elizabeth Joy

    Damn, girl…

    Okay, here’s a comment for you. You are one of my top three favorite bloggers, and I read A LOT of blogs. There are (OMG, stressful) currently 486 unread posts in my reader, and none of them are yours. If you think about your own reader habits, you’ll see that says a lot.

    I found you through one of your maybe-more-widely-read-but-certainly-not-more-readable friend’s blogs, whose average post I would rate a 7/10, only because I’m a tough grader. You, girl, are the full 10. Every post, every time.

  6. Manda

    Dude I get in trouble for stuff I say on Twitter ALL THE TIME.
    And I DO love you even though I am sucktastic with the comments all the time. You are lovely. Keep writing. Here, I’ll even go and click on your ads for you. CHA-CHING!!

  7. Angella

    I have a blog crisis DAILY, if that helps. Blergh.

    I would be sad to see you go, so I’m glad you’re sticking with it. xoxo

  8. Holly

    I often lurk rather than engage because I go through like 80 layers of “OMG This is such a dumb comment and why are you even leaving it nobody asked for your opinion…”
    But I’m going to give you my opinion now and it goes something like this: I LOVE THIS BLOG. And I’m so glad you keep typing away…

  9. Michelle

    Delurking in December to tell you how much I enjoy reading your blog. I don’t comment as often as I should and I’m sorry for that. Please know that there are a lot of us out here/there who get so much enjoyment out of reading your words. Stay positive and stay warm. (Lame, but true!)

  10. Moose

    Thanks, everyone! I really appreciate it.

    It’s not even about the comments – especially since I am the WORST COMMENTER from here to Jupiter. It’s more about how easy it is to focus on external factors that mean nothing. If your head’s a mess or you don’t feel good about yourself in some way, you can get nine zillion comments and it doesn’t make any real difference. Well, I assume. Obviously I can’t say for sure. Does anyone know Dooce? Can we ask her? Maybe getting nine zillion comments makes you feel like you can flap your arms and fly to the moon. I’m straying from my point. Which is: it doesn’t matter how many comments you get – three or three thousand – they’re all awesome and anyone who blogs appreciates every one of them. But the head noise, dude. That has to go.

  11. Kavita

    Hold on to Layer 7, and keep blogging, and lazy though we might get about commenting, we’re still reading.

    I’m here, simply because you have a way with words, and it’s a great refresher from the mundane numbers I stare at most of the day. :-)

  12. Jess

    Your blog is one of my favorites! I do more lurking than commenting, however rest assured that all of your posts are appreciated. :)

  13. frank

    My excuse for not commenting on your posts is mainly down to the fact that each of your posts is complete and needs any addition.

    From feelings to food, (especially the FOOD!) you cover all the bases, so stop beating yourself up!

    L

    Frank x

  14. nicolien

    Ha! And here I am deleting my comments every time I start writing one just because I think it cannot possibly be worthy of your incredibly well-written posts.

    Your blog has been one of the few that never even came close to ‘delete from reader’. Which means I LOVE IT. Thank you for writing here!

  15. Bethany

    Your blog is one of my favorites, and you constantly make me think and re-examine the parts of myself that I want to work on as well. (Which sounds like a negative thing, but it’s not — like today, with the switch from “I” to “you” — I do that too, and never realized it until now!) I am not a frequent commenter, but I always look forward to your new posts.

  16. Teej

    Noooooo! Don’t goooooo! The blog world would be less sunny without you in it.

  17. Carly

    I love your blog too! I’m very much looking forward to blog entries about your upcoming dog adventures. (Wait, blog and dog rhyme. Let’s try this again:)

    I’m very much looking forward to entries in your blog
    About your upcoming adventures with your new dog

    yay!

  18. jennifer in sf

    Those first couple layers are pretty much why I don’t have a blog (except the making a living as a writer part). But I’m glad you do.

    (And if you want info on traffic, etc… design sponge had a number of posts about promoting your website, advertising, seo, blah, blah, blah.)

  19. barbetti

    I’m really awful with the comments, like Manda said. I probably only comment on 10% of the posts I see in my reader and, well, that’s kind of pathetic on my behalf. I’ll work on it!