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You don't even know. Wait. If you are reading this, you probably do know. There's the entire being this part of a blogger that clamors for ... for ... comments. For traffic. How can one build fame and renown if one can't talk about it?

Sure, we write, but we exist in a world of people with ears and mouths. Not just screens and keyboards. But when we must interact with IRLs ... how does that go? And also, at what point did robots become more "relatable"? I kid I digress.
A blogger struggles to find a voice ... a voice that he or she wants to have, but more-so ... one that others want to hear. We not only want to write, we want to share that we write. WriteRight? Yet, despite this hunger for relevance and reach ... we can't really talk about it. Not to the hairdresser. Not to the mechanic. Not to the mommies at the park. Not to the piano teacher. Not to the barista or bartender, but maybe CoinStar. Not to the office manager. Not even to one's therapist. Why? Because they think we're crazy.
The public thinks we're CRAZAY.
OK, Public, you get one point. Public, you either think we are:
- Obsessed with celebrity gossip
- Obsessed with our children's genius
- Obsessed with our cats
- Obsessed with whining about our lives
- Something that looks like crazy, lonely and desperate
And so what if we are? You (Public) are obsessed with *insert your thing here*, and we love ours. P.S. I am obsessed with Me. JSYK. We (le bloggahs) are just sthpecial, becausewearealsohighlynarcissistic.
Bloggers, does the following scenario sound familiar? Let's jump into the middle of a conversation I have had NUMEROUS times:
Random Person: So, what do you do?
Me: I'm a *insert your profession here* mom.
My Brain: Don't do it, Jenny. Don't tell them. Just walk away. You have some really cute jeans on. Let your cute jeans have the last word ... save yourself.
Me to My Brain: But ... I. I. I also blog! What a great part of Me!
My Brain: Jenny. Don't. You have issues. Your online accepts those issues. Your IRL ... notsomuch. At least not yet ... give them time. They need more TIME. *brain fires synapses madly in a desperate attempt to convice*
Me to Random Person: Iamalsoablogger. Iwriteablog. Ikeepablog. IblogbutnotlikePerezHilton. Mommy. Mommy. Blog. Humor. Vlogging. Youtube. Reviews. Twitter ... #GNO!!! *gasp*
Random Person: *blinks*
Me: Uh. Yeah. Soooo. *one foot awkwardly scuffs the ground as I make eye contact with the ground*
Me: Yeahsomuch ... *ahem*
Random Person: Oh. *backing away* I don't have time for that. Celebrity gossip? I'm too busy.
What I hear: Do you shower? Do you clean your home? Do you sit on the computer all day and chat online with hot babes?
So what if I do chat online with hot babes? Jealous much? I think you ARE.
My Brain: See???!!!
Me to Random Person: Yeah. Well. I just ... um... People like me. I take showers. Well. I. Hrmmm. I'm just silly. I don't. I. Silly. *muttermutter* *shift from hip to hip*
Me: I'm just gonna go take my kid to soccer practice now, m'kay?
It's just hard. *wipes tear* There is this world ... blogging. This part of my life. A BIG part of my life ... and I can't really talk about it ... because it is a little bit like bad breath. It's uncomfortable. For others. The sad thing is, blogging is really NOT AT ALL like bad breath.
Jenny Ingram writes at Jenny On The Spot and wears glitter everyday. She also digresses over there on the Twitter @jennyonthespot.













