Stage Fright

I’ve come to the terrifying conclusion that I have absolutely nothing good to say. I’ve been surfing all the wonderful, amazing blogs out there. There’s tons of them. People blogging to their hearts content about all sorts of fascinating topics. Cooking Blogs, Writing Blogs, Social Commentary, Exotic Places, Arts, Crafts, Photography, Spoon of the Day, Eel Wrangling. (OK, I made those last two up. But I wonder….) I could browse around for hours!

And so many excellent writers. I peek at a blog because it looks interesting, and then I’m sucked in by the person’s writing style. Witty people, sarcastic people, grammar nazis (shut up red wiggle, I’m not capitalizing it), movie buffs, people reviewing books that I must now read. Each of them with their own unique voice and grasp of the English language.

At first I look at all these blogs and think to myself,  “hey, if they can do it, so can I. I have funny stories, I have opinions. Weird stuff happens to me sometimes. I like writing words!”  And I start taking notes of all the crazy, amazing, random thoughts I think throughout the day, hoping to make a post about one or several of them. Then everyone can laugh and cry and join me in my fantastic adventures.

Then I come home to my laptop. My brain is bubbling with ideas. I just have to tell the world! I saw a rabbit try to mount a squirrel! My cat learned to speak Spanish! Jason Statham just rode by my house on a bicycle! My Big Mac actually looked like what was in the advertisement photo! I start reading a few blogs here and there because I get sidetracked. Once again I’m amazed at all the awesome bloggers. But the effect is much more negative than before I thought I had an idea worth writing about.

Who do I think I am? I’ve got no business trying to equate myself to the likes of them. They have real exciting adventures. They’ve been writing for years, probably been published too! They went to school for the stuff they’re talking about. They have photography skills. They’re funny. They have vast, detailed knowledge of their subject matter, that shows in their concise and authoritative handling of the words and sentences, that they weave so effortlessly across the page.

Who am I to think any of them would want to look at the measly crud I spew forth. Seriously. I’m sure loads of people get perfect looking Big Macs. Somebody cooler than me probably has a cat that speaks Portuguese. Who wants to hear my stories? WHY DID I START A BLOG? I’m nobody. I’m not even Crew Man Number Six. I’m faceless nameless guy getting eaten by the monster before the main characters even show up. I’m the guy launched by an explosion followed by the George Lucas screaming sound effect. You know the one I’m talking about. It’s in Star Wars and Indiana Jones, and just about everything with somebody falling off a cliff, or getting eaten by crocodiles, or flying from an explosion. That really cheesy scream. Come on… you know… (looks it up) Ah! The Wilhelm Scream! That’s what it’s called! Yeah, that’s me, the guy that goes woooaugh! Who cares what he has to say?

~By the way, I’m not a guy, I just tend to use the gender associated with what I’m talking about. The term is not “Crew Lady Number Six” and I’m not saying “Crew Person”~

Aw fudgecicles.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah….