Tuesday, June 22, 2010

So, Dudes, Prepare Yourselves for the Onslaught...


So, dudes (and dudettes, since I'm pretty sure many of you share the double X with me), prepare yourselves for the onslaught... the onslaught of wicked words and funny stories and personal battles that must be rehashed in print. If you think about such things, the thought might have crossed your mind that Angie must have exploded from all the pent-up words that haven't been falling out into her blog. Yep, it's true. I haven't had time to write the blog daily because I've been too busy biting my tongue and holding my peace (not to be confused with holding my piece, which is likely what some of you just read, lol).

Don't talk politics.
Don't talk religion.
Don't air your dirty laundry in public.
Don't this.
Don't that.

It's all very good advice. It is. It's just driving my writing muse crazy lately, and that's because lately, politics and religion and dirty laundry are like a huge swarm of mosquitoes circling my body of thoughts. Yeah, how's that for a convoluted simile?

For all the time I've spent inwardly thinking about spirituality and what I really believe about the universe, I've spent even more time not talking about it because I seem to have moved right smackdabinthemiddle of a place where my views are going to be just plain sacrilege if/when I utter them aloud. Ya think that whole "speak up for what you believe" discussion hasn't been torturing my head a little bit? Let's not even get started on the "but it's not just you who will feel the effects" discussion, and let's really not get started on the "well, what are you teaching your kids about life if you do/don't speak your mind" guilt-laden discussion. Suffice it to say that IF I could figure out how to let loose without offending anyone, I would have some hilarious rants to share with you. Oh, there we could go on another tangent, the "I honestly believe we should each believe what feels right for ourselves and let other people do the same" tangent, which most certainly has to be accompanied by the "well, if that's what I believe, then why are my panties in a bunch over what someone else believes??" tangent.

See? Told ya to prepare yourselves for the onslaught, and we haven't even touched on the politics or dirty laundry (well, maybe "touched" and "dirty laundry" aren't good word images to use during this particularly hot and humid Midwestern summer, kinda brings sweat-soaked and icky to mind, huh?).

Politics, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, politics, that's been a biggie for a few years now. Yep, here I am, the smackdabinthemiddle girl, suffocated by ultra-conservative rhetoric and discombobulated by ultra-liberal rhetoric. Don't worry, I don't care where you fall on the continuum, I just want to speak my piece occasionally and prove that I think for myself.

Dirty laundry, dirty laundry. Hmmm, there must be a better term for that. That phrase just sprang to mind after the mention of politics, I guess. Heh, heh, that's not really funny, when you think about it; guess I'm in one of my cynical, warped moods, huh? Anyway, I've also been thinking about how we social networking media whores (or Facebook personality sluts? or hams?) say things, then those things get taken the wrong way by other people, then those people tell their neighbor's boss's ex-wife's grandmother what he said he said she said. . . and Granny knows your dog groomer's best friend's daughter's pen-pal. . . and there we go with the drama, lol! Now, from what I remember from writing courses in college, lo those long years ago, a good writer plays to her audience while at the same time not letting the audience's potential reaction silence her. Obviously, the world keeps on changing, while at the same time, the snowball effect remains the same!

Yep, that about sums up the situation with me and the blogging these days. Damned if I do (quite possibly quite literally, if the religion thing gets out of hand), and damned if I don't (quite figuratively, quite because I could figuratively explode from the force of pent-up rants about why the cat has to lay her mouseskullandguts tributes in places on the patio where my flipflop wearing feet might stumble across them).

So, dudes (and dudettes), let the blogging fun/catharsis begin again. . . Ang and her warped brain are back :-)


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