I’ve been blogging for 11 years and I’ve yet to create a process (need?) for subscribing to either of my blogs. I was never going to send you a newsletter or ask you to become a member of a club, so I didn’t see the point.
A couple weeks ago, I was giving serious thought to the idea of no longer self-hosting these blogs. Are these blogs two leaves drifting down onto a forest floor covered in (prettier, better-written, more interesting) leaves? Often I feel I’m in the middle of that forest, spilling my thoughts to the trees, moss and birds.
Hello?
Is anyone there?
This blog has been, and continues to be, my therapy. While it’s nice to know others are out there reading, the benefit comes to me, even if I’m spewing to the trees, birds and other woodland creatures. That’s why I’ve kept hosting them all these long years – the blogs, not the woodland creatures. (See what I mean about better writing?)
But it costs money to self-host a blog. It’s not a lot, and it’s certainly less than monthly therapy appointments. That being said, whenever I need to tighten my belt (2020?!), I often look at those monthly charges and think about not paying Hostgator. Hell, I could save that money and use up some of the kids’ unused (except for a few random pages of doodles and complaints about the teacher) spiral notebooks from home school to scrawl out all those thoughts – thoughts I’ve been paying to spew into the moss-covered forest inhabited by birds, who clearly don’t give a rip.
And then, a few days ago, I opened up the Jesse Blayne email account and there was an email from one who was wondering how to subscribe so she wouldn’t miss any of these words.
I ask you, when the Universe sends you a wink like that, what would you do?
I know, right?
So I created a page on this blog where you can subscribe. If you like. And then, apparently, this plug-in thingy will send you an email when I’ve written a new post. Then you, and the moss-covered trees and the birds, will know what I’m ranting about. (Like that matters? I dunno.) But, just maybe you’ll be glad to know another soul out there feels the same way you do, and you’re not alone in all this craziness.
And I’ll save the kids’ old spiral notebooks for a different project like notes on gardening, or potential remodeling ideas (that are way too expensive), or how to understand my 22 year old son, or maybe donate them (the notebooks, not Will, of course) to Goodwill with the other home school books we no longer need.
Speaking of subscribing, I requested to be part of a Facebook Group about Covid. I was hoping it was going to be filled with science-minded, caring folks who wanted to support each other through these crazy times. I now see that there most likely isn’t that sort of Covid Support Group – at least not on Facebook. I unsubscribed.
Speaking of unsubscribing, what have you unsubscribed from this year?
If Covid could have a silver lining, maybe it’s that we have an excuse to unsubscribe, unfollow and back away from many of the things we wanted to get away from, but were too polite to, before this virus.
Like that guy I unsubscribed from, a few years back, whose voice I hear saying, “No one reads your blogs,” right before I’m about to hit the Publish button.
I’ve tried to unsubscribe from the shenanigans in the White House. My mental health is whispering (okay, sometimes screaming) that maybe it’s not such a great idea to pay attention to that circus. What can I do about it, anyway. But it reminds me of a big black hairy spider there, in the corner. I’ve got to keep my eye on it. Oh wait! It just went under the green chair. “Jen! Grab a shoe! Quick!” And while Jen runs to grab a shoe, I’ve got to keep watching the floor under the green chair, because if I lose sight of the big hairy spider, it’ll reappear where I least expect it, and scare the crap out of all of us.
Also, who’s bringing the shoe for the spider in the White House and could they hurry it up, please?
I do hope this year comes to a peaceful, healthy close for you and that you feel encouraged and lighter about the possibilities that the new year might bring. Thanks for being here.