Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Joining The Ranks

I am not one of those women who cry. It pisses me off to cry. That should tell you a little something about how I perceive myself. But contrary to what you might think, I am not emotionally crippled, callous, or cold. Quite the opposite is true, actually.

I am not tough as nails, though I do like that I am sometimes perceived that way.

The truth is, that I am a big, fat, emotional sap.

And the reason I don't let myself cry, is that I am acutely aware of the fact that if I begin, I may not stop. And I do not cry prettily. Oh no. I cry with great big donkey sobs and streams of snot and eyes that swell up after just a few moments.

So I just don't let myself start.

But lately, it seems, I have lost my ability to choke them back, turn them off... to SUCK IT UP, as it were.

Some instances that have turned me into a quivering pile of teary goo recently:


  • Watching Bing Crosby's Christmas special as he tells his daughter the story of the little matchgirl. Jesus.


  • Watching Little House on the Prairie Christmas Special "Christmas at Plum Creek". You know, where Laura sells her horse to Nellie Olsen (and we all know how that ends up, don't we??) to buy Ma a stove, but Pa made her a saddle? And then Ma finds out Laura sold her horse, and she tries to stop her. "She LOVES that horse!" Ma tells Pa. And Pa replies, "Caroline, she loves YOU more." Fer the Love of Mike.


  • Listening to John Berry sing "O Holy Night". Sniffle.


  • Ditto for Bing and David Bowie singing "Little Drummer Boy". Snerk.






  • Overhearing a boy about the age of Diminutive One in Target the other day saying to his mother. "Oh, Mom, look. Wouldn't Granny have loved this? Too bad we can't mail stuff to heaven." Snivel.

  • Watching Husband's Boss's wife tear up at the Christmas party, when her husband made a speech thanking her for staying by his side through good times and bad. Quiver, quiver, sigh.


  • Having a co-worker and friend tell me "You know, Husband is head over heels for you. It's so obvious how much he loves you. I would give anything to have that." Good Grief there's no stopping this one!! Sob, sob, sniffle sob.


  • Seeing a friend share an long hidden truth with close friends, sure they would turn away, only to find that they loved her just the same, if not more. Heavens to Betsy.


Perhaps it is the homesickness that is nearly crippling this time of year. Perhaps it is finding that the Christmas spirit, which so often eludes me, is still alive in me somewhere. Perhaps it is just that this time of year really makes me realize how fantastically lucky I am.

((Shrug)). Whichever the case, it seems that for the time being at least, I am...one of those women who cries.

S'not so bad.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go sob into a pot of Chicken Dumpling soup. DAMN you "A Very Brady Christmas".

9 Comments:

  • At 12:30 PM, Blogger Liz said…

    Oh yes! That Little House on the Prairie will get you EVERY time! It's so touching. I remember seeing it when I was a little girl and trying to figure out what I could sell to get my mom something nice.

     
  • At 12:33 PM, Blogger Mamma said…

    O Holy Night has just started making me cry--ever since I had kids. It's crazy. I wouldn't even call myself religious. I just think it's such a beautiful song.

    I understand the ugly crying thing though. I didn't really cry at my wedding, more that my nose just ran profusely creating a very shiny booger mustache. Beautiful image huh?

     
  • At 9:53 PM, Blogger Mrs. Chicky said…

    Ditto on the crying thing. Not a crier myself, but I just can't stop myself this year. It's really bad when Josh Groban can bring a tear to my eye... Not that I would ever admit that again.

    Merry Christmas, you sap you!

     
  • At 10:05 PM, Blogger Veronica Mitchell said…

    "Too bad we can't mail stuff to heaven." Oh. That would turn stone to butter.

     
  • At 10:51 PM, Anonymous Kvetch said…

    I don't even celebrate Christmas and I love all of those. If your heartstrings are tugged on at this time of year, I'd say you'd be like the Tin Man, no heart. And one thing is certain that a woman who writes so poetically and poignantly, most certainly has a big heart. Even if she doesn't always cry (in public). Hugs and merry Christmas to you, my friend.

     
  • At 12:50 AM, Blogger Karyn said…

    I had to pull off the road listening to Tracy Chapman singing Oh Holy Night.

    I cried at UGLY BETTY.

    This will not stand. I wrote about something similar recently - no clue what the HELL is happening, so for now, am content to blame the hormones. (I'm just saying.)

     
  • At 9:46 AM, Blogger The Medium Swede said…

    You know Little House would do more for me if not for the ever lurking and creepy face contorting, Mr. Edwards.

     
  • At 7:58 PM, Blogger Oh, The Joys said…

    The Little Drummer Boy kicks my *ss every time no matter who is singing it.

     
  • At 1:35 PM, Anonymous neener said…

    yeah whoda thunk?

    *smooches*

     

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