Blog Anxiety

You might think I’ve forgotten about my blog, or at least my promise to blog with greater frequency. This is not the case! In fact, I often think about my blog and how neglected it has become, and there have been many occasions when I actually log in to my account and begin typing. But then I get halfway through and lose confidence, and then I stop. I don’t delete my unfinished posts but I save them as drafts, thinking that maybe one day I will come back and fix them up so that they are worthy of being read, but I doubt I will ever do that. They will never be good enough.

I am suffering from Blog Anxiety.

And in a move which renders me incredibly vulnerable I will now bear all, as they say, and give a taste of my failures:

“If you were a bear and I was a berry, would you eat my heart out?”
–post never written–

” The significance of living in A.D.”
Earlier this winter I was thinking a lot about these two very major–and universally recognized–periods of history. There is B.C. (or B.C.E. to be PC) and there is A.D. (C.E.) Before Christ, and Anno Domini, the year of our Lord. Mostly these dates are just helpful for us when we need a reference point to begin sorting out events (Jesus Christ was born six years Before Christ??) but they are also handy when you want to do some heavy thinking about how you stack up to the Old-Testament Heroes (perhaps NBC would be interested in the pilot.) Blah blah blah… (Post truncated)


“At one point today my lungs and my lips and my larynx teamed up and issued forth the following monologue: “I can’t speak Spanish. I can’t speak French. I can’t sing. I can’t play any instruments. I can’t cook. I can’t sew. I can’t fix cars. I can’t paint. I don’t have any kind of job skills. I can’t do anything well.” I actually BLAH BLAH BLAH (Post truncated) 


“A very Christian man and a very atheistic man both stepped onto the subway at the same stop, and proceeded to sit on two benches which faced each other. The Christian man’s name was, appropriately, Christian. The atheist’s name was Harold. Christian was 46 years old and Harold was 38, and although neither one knew it, both Christian
and Harold’s parents had been married on the exact same date, October 4th, 1955. BLAH BLAH BLAH (Post, thankfully, truncated.) 


“I do not believe in time travel. Part One.”
(Post never written) 


“If I don’t do it, I won’t do it” 

On Friday night the gang gathered around the piano and we spent a few minutes making fun of John Lennon for writing a song as ridiculous as Imagine (oh, you secular humanists!) Today, though, as I was driving along the freeway I couldn’t help but do some utopic imagining of my own. Here: Imagine there was no advertising.

It’s easy if you try, though of course it’s far fetched and the resulting
implications run deep and wide. Mostly I was thinking, “What if there weren’t a thousand billboards on the side of the road? What if I could enjoy the scenery as I drove, instead of consciously focusing on the pavement? What if there were no banner ads on the internet? What if there were no commercials on the TV and the Radio? What if BLAH BLAH BLAH… (Post truncated)

So you see, I’ve been trying! But I’ve lost it. I have lost it. Tragedy upon great tragedies, perhaps we can all gather up our quivering droplets of soul and move on together–brave to leave those things we love, to seek that which is unfamiliar and regain strength with each step. Iowa, Sangria, Melancholia. Lotus latitudinus. BLAH WHATEVER!

There are today’s ten minutes. That was terrifying!

Cloudy with a chance of in three parts.

One morning you might wake up and realize that last night’s sunset, which seemed so breathtaking at the time, was really just the product of copious amounts of air pollution, refusing to let white light pass unbent.

Breathtaking indeed. You could choke on beauty like that.


Everything that this man on TV predicted about the weather is coming true. They say he has a contract with God, that every night God leans down and whispers in his ear precisely what to expect of the skies that week, and God is never wrong. In exchange for this gift, this hand-out of impeccible accuracy and resulting success as a public meteorological figure, the weatherman must spend no less than 40 percent of his free time devoted to local charities and other good causes, which God allows him to choose freely. Forty percent does not seem like much of a request, considering the fame his divine connection has brought him. Though four times a usual tithe, 40 percent is really quite manageable. He can accomplish a lot of good in his charitable hours, if he so desires.

This morning the man on TV predicted flooding on the north part of the city. Many years earlier God promised he would never again flood the world, but the north part of the city, I suppose, is expendable. I’d like to think he’s got it wrong this time, considering I live in the north, but he gets his information straight from God.

I’m worried for my cat. My dog is a strong swimmer, she will do fine. But what about my cat?

Sometimes the weatherman does his 40 percent service at the local animal shelter. I think that people who work with animals must be very kind. I’m happy that he has acheived great success in life. Some people aren’t as deserving.

I think it’s beginning to rain.


You have ribbons for eyes, you cannot see.

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    Breena Wiederhoeft
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