Thank You, Sorry, Who Cares? 72 do

I want to extend special thanks to those who took the time to follow and read my blog this year. I enjoyed your visit. It feels good to know you were interested in what I had to say when I did say anything.

I am also sorry that my blogging pattern has fallen off recently. Life gets in the way and I often struggle with whether I should blog about my issues.

‘Who cares’ is the voice I battle with.

‘Why dump your bad days on your readers? Everyone has their own troubles, you don’t need to spew more onto them.’

That voice most often wins.

It’s a voice I’ll have to battle as the new year approaches. I either have to stay on the blogging horse or get off altogether. But I’d like to continue blogging, put my voice out there, even if it’s one of dissent or depression, or conversations with myself. It’s my rose gardens. It’s my thorns. It’s what I said I’d blog about, even when its a streak of thorns that seems to be all I can stumble through.

And maybe not everyone will ‘stay away’ if I share my personal failures. Maybe there are other people who can identify with my caged bird stories. Maybe I don’t need to listen to that discouraging voice that keeps asking, Who cares? Or maybe I should just ignore the Notifications and the site stats that I check way too often and just write what’s on my over-analytical, not so lucid brain. Feel the immobilising fear and write about it cause that’s what I feel and experience at this point.

Forget what my About page says and it’s promises and that I’m not sticking to the big picture and the goals and just write. Admit that I am a lazy, distracted blogger who reads too much about what other ‘successful’ bloggers say defines my success. Admit that I probably am never gonna make it big or have the same site stats that some bloggers have. Maybe I should just stop all the marketing and just write and who will come, come. Maybe I should stop thinking and just let my thoughts flow as they are doing now, not really going anywhere, just saying, y’know.

Put my good, my bad, my sense and my nonsense until my change comes… a  new vibe, the ‘what’ I’m aiming to become.

Whole, lucid, prolific.

Maybe I should just ‘say’ and forget the rest. Who will come, will come. Or maybe I should change my focus to reflect the dynamic patterns of my life. Probably that’s what I should do. Not try to be a magazine, just be a blog. Be the little train car and not the whole train. At least for now, until my change comes.

For now and today, all I have are fragments and a hoarse discordant song.

You can listen in  or not. Tomorrow gifts a new day.

When I MAY HAVE A NEW SONG, a more perfect one.

Thanks for keeping me company in my rose garden this year.

I was truly blessed to be read by the universe. When I am asked again, Who cares?

I’ll stick my chin up and proudly say

My 72 followers and 1,300 visitors who just viewed and stopped to chat or just silently cheered from the side-lines.

Thank you, yes you.

Have a fantastic 2015!


Note to ole Pirate site, Bug Off


Today is my Call Out Parasites and Pirates Day. You have been selected because you have entered or followed my blog and taken my blog posts. I am not happy with you.

I notice that you are aggregating my posts on your site. You have no authorisation to do so. Because of your actions, I have been discouraged from writing. Your actions are illegitimate and I hope I’ll see this on my ‘autor’ page so that your readers know you are a pirate.

I was on a roll and you have spoiled my writing fun and curtailed my desire to write. For the rest of the week, I will be sending you posts you are worthy of. Prepare for an avalanche. Your readers are going to love it. Do me a favour and bug off!

And while you are pulling my writing and all links to this site and taking my name off your page, would you learn to spell ‘autor’ and ‘transporte’? It’s ‘author’ with an ‘h’ and ‘transport’ without an ‘e’.

And how comes you have no contact details? You are a scurrilous insect that needs to pay for your content and leave bloggers just trying to get a foot in the door to write to their hearts’ content.

Have a nice day, you modern day pirate. You have spoiled mine for many days now.

Just free up I and I tings. Don’t get I and I really mad. I’m Jamaican!! Watch me and yuh.

In Search of the Perfect Post

“The only purpose of starting is to finish, and while the projects we do are never really finished, they must ship.”

– Seth Godin (Linchpin)

I have been feeling poorly all weekend after coming down with the Chikumgunya Virus or Chik-V, the mosquito-borne illness that has been affecting many persons in Jamaica, Grenada and has now reached as far as Florida. Anyway, I had lost my appetite, my feet still looks like I have elephantitis (well, probably not that bad but close), my fingers have just started to work again, premenstrual syndrome and other emotional hangovers just made me one very grumpy, oestrogen-heightened, depressed lady today. Oh, it’s Monday right? Maybe that was part of it too.

After listening to stress-relieving ‘brain music’ on  YouTube much of the day, I decide to look in on my site and see what’s going on. But for some reason I was not getting any inspiration. Nada.

I have a few drafts that I keep messing with trying to get them perfect, but each time I add something my mind starts its usual argument, and I find myself facing a line of questions, such as, should I make this into two posts, should I change the focus? If I write an informational post, which I haven’t yet done, will my readers see it as too academic? How do I achieve the balance point?

At some point, I may even stop and ask, would anyone want to read about this?

How can I make this short and spunky? How can I paraphrase this without plagiarising?

Then finally after travailing with it for hours, I decide, ‘this copy stinks,’ and I save it and park it for the evening until I feel up to letting it see the light of day again.

Then on a lucky day, a flash of inspiration and it all comes together.

That ever happens to you? (Not the Chik-V part 🙂

P.S. In case you’re wondering what ‘brain music’ I listened to today, check out this sample video. (Now I’m hooked)

Credit: Yellow Brick Cinema

“Make a decision. It doesn’t have to be a wise decision or a perfect one. Just make one.” — Seth Godin

Random Thoughts and Ramblings … on scrubbing digital footprints, elusive dreams, writing fears and all that

Before last week and Blogging 101, I hadn’t written on this blog for a long stretch of time. I actually wrote this about  two weeks ago and held it in Drafts. I was searching today for something to express my Monday blues feeling, and decided to publish it. I first titled it ‘Ramblings’ because at the time, it seemed like  my thoughts refused to come together except in spurts. After my tour around WordPress and seeing that others have done this random thoughts thing successfully, I felt I had blogging license to post such thoughts, in their ad hoc state, ’cause I don’t always have to have it together and readers understand that; and, randomness works on this platform.

So, as I said earlier, I had stopped writing. The challenge to write publicly about private things which hurt you to your soul when you do not use a pseudonym and putting what I felt was negative toxins into the public sphere dissuaded me. There was so much to say, yet I couldn’t, because thoughts of the implications and repercussions of my words on those I would rant about could invade my privacy, and that fear was greater than my need to write. With no other ideas coming to me, but these soul-hurting things I wanted to blurt out, that put me into a quandary. .

My story needed to be told and I yearned and still yearn to tell its unadulterated version, but that strident voice of reasoning, or doubt, depending on what angle you see it from argue with me from a myriad of standpoints: ‘it’s not responsible,’ ‘it’s not wise,’ ‘it’s not Christ-like,’ or ‘it’s fake if you tell the watered down version’. On and on, round and round in my head the debate goes on until the side of me which please others gives in to the pressure.

So, I decided to keep quiet, against the risk of inviting scoffs or recrimination. (Sometimes, your community can be a mean place.) As I wrestled with my fears, I checked names on my subscriber list to see if there are people I know who know me (I don’t worry about those who I don’t interact with daily, it’s those who are in my circle that scare me.) and surreptitiously tried to scrub away the digital footprints of my icky, iffy post past —  trashing or changing my privacy settings on posts I felt gave away too much of the muck in my world. I decided not to promote posts through my Facebook Page so my ‘friends’ would not be all up in my business — .even while conscious that one cannot do that successfully, and what’s already out there in someone’s inbox will stay there until they delete it.

Worst than the fear of the snickerers though, is my fear of the silence. You could pour out your most private, inner fears onto this screen, and no one even leaves a comment; the stats bars remain flat.

Or not. I’ve read the blogs of scores of brazen, courageous women who let it all hang out. They speak out about the taboo topics of domestic abuse, their mental illness, their hoohas/ woman’s bits (newest jargon for vagina) secrets, mistakes and fears; they tell it all, unafraid of the stigmas or what anyone wants to think. And they reach others. Overnight their blog stats bars become skyscrapers. They make me believe that there is room for me to get my writing legs and muster up courage to tell my stories.

On days like today, all these sides of the debate rage within me. It’s a struggle to see the silver lining behind the clouds.

But I have to.

So I can write.

Because I am a writer.

And writers must write.

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