OK, so I'm not over it.


The other thing wrong with my new tendency to blog is my obsessive compulsiveness kicks in. When I started this blog, I wanted to start at the beginning of my twins order and post the events in sequential order as they happened. Even though I began my blog in December and my twins journey began in August. I was even annoyed by the fact that I couldn't predate my blogs. Hell, maybe you can and I'm just not that advanced. Then I fell into the trap of wanting to blog about current events that were happening now in the here and now, but posting on the happens my current life would interfere int he storytelling of my journey.



Besides being a journalist (which can I really even call myself that since my words are no longer found in print) I am storyteller. Are my posts are too long and rambling? Am I doing this right??? I could take a one minute episode and turn it into a three page post complete with blow by blow analyses and description. And there may not even be much dialogue included in that, which was why i never felt comfortable as a playwright. I like to describe surroundings, feelings, flashbacks, colors, thoughts. It goes on and on.



So I'll end with a very blog like ending: What do you think? (my nonexistent readers) Are my posts too long, too story like, too this or that? How can I improve my posts? What do you want to hear, know about me? Send me an email if you're feeling it. Open for suggestions!

I'm still getting used to this whole 'Blog' thing. One problem I'm having is I am a traditionally trained journalist and this is a new genre of writing. Different rules apply, and the perfectionist in me does not like not knowing what they all are so I can adhere to them or break them accordingly. The more blogs I read, the more unclear I become. I don't want to model my column, er blog, like someone else's, even though I admire many. I am me and how do I show that in such a public arena without the defined lines and confinements of the rules of the published world, like writing for a newspaper, newsletter or magazine (all of which I am familiar and comfortable with.)



This leads me to my second issue with blogging. The nature of the blog feels an awful lot like an edited, public version of my journal entries. I have been blabbing to myself in notebooks, journals,and diaries since the 5th grade. I could go back and tell you what I was doing at any given point in my life over the past 17 years. Scary, but true. But who really wants to know or hear any or all of that crap? Are my innermost thoughts, observations, and daily experiences and musing really that interesting to anyone else other than me?



Also I worry about exposing too much of myself. In such a public medium like the Internet where pictures and words live on for eternity, how much do I censor myself? I find I often want to say things or talk about certain situations, but what if the annoying friend I am referring to reads my blog and my true feelings are exposed? Don't I know I am taking that risk when I hit 'Post' so if I do it anyways, do I secretly want to get caught like a cheating spouse or serial murderer who leaves behind evidence and the experts say they obviously want to get caught? Man, I am over analyzing this! My ego is winning the battle if I actually believe people will take the time to even read my rantings, let alone give a crap! lol



LOL. Leads me to another pet peeve. Its hard to ditch the grammar editor in my head. For too many years I have been practicing classic journalism and referring too many times to APA style books to ever really feel comfortable in the lax world of Internet vernacular. Then I just decide to go with it. OMG. Get over it.

Damn medical TV dramas. I don't know if its my horomones playing tricks on me again, or the fact that I am now more sensitive to issues involving children since I am a mother myself, but crying over a TV shows really annoys me. Yet week after week I find myself glued in anticipation to the set to see whether the Dad choses to die with his daughter or watch the mother grieve over the death of her 7 year old.

I mean, I used to watch ER all the time and never shed a tear. I maybe got teary-eyed once during the episode where they played that Brother Iz song 'Over the Rainbow' and did flashbacks of Dr. Green dying in Hawaii, but never broke down in hysterical sobs followed by a night of depression and unwanted images of me holding my dead son in my arms!!!

I've been a faithful Grey's Anatomy fan since its inception and have easily walked the line of emotional reactions, clearly knowing the difference between fiction and reality. But now all of a sudden week after week of baby/parenting episodes on Private Practice revs up my maternal emotions. All I can see on the screen are images my imagination projects of me in the position of the parents (characters!) who are often in very far stratched scenarios in the first place mutter through (fake) emotional turmoil. The people on the screen are actors. The stories are NOT REAL! My son is never going to die of the Measles, but there I am crying through commercial breaks.

My husband gets mad and asks why I watch these shows. He reiterates they are not real people or situation. Duh, I know that! It's just the thought of my in the situations that break me down. I'm pregnant and scared, damn it, I tell him between sobs. Just shut up and hold me.

2009 has arrived and I find myself scared of this year. Excited, yes, but definitely scared. I haven't entered the start of a new year 100% sober since I was probably 13, but that isn't the only reason this year is so different.

I knew from the time the ball dropped and I stood amidst the drunks kissing, starring stupidly at the TV screen and trying to nonchalantly dodge my husband's whiskey breath that this was a monumental year. Not very often do you enter the realm of fresh starts knowing upfront that by the turn of another notch on the calendar year 12 months from now that my life will most certainly not be the same as it was in that very moment we passed from 2008 to 2009.

I liked 2008. I experienced my first full year as a mother and watched my son grow so fast from a pooping, peeing, sleeping, crying mass of undeveloped muscle (a very cute mass I must say) to a walking, talking baby boy. Words don't describe feelings like that. I didn't have the travel highlights of years past, but his smiles and snuggles made up for that. Even though I know the number of smiles and snuggles in my life is about to increase three-fold, I am still fucking scared. I've never been good with unknowns and that is what 2009 has in store for me. A life unlike anything I ever imagined or can prepare for.

I feel like I live in a picturesque snow globe that someone is about to shake the hell out of. My world is about to be turned upside down. Before I have a panic attack without the aide of my Xanax, I remind myself of something poetic that makes me smile. I always liked the snow globes better when they were all shaken up. Bring it on, 2009.

Me (6 months pregnant with twins) and My Husband ringing in 2009