I have been pondering just where I fit in, in the blogosphere.
Over on my left are the crafty blogs.
I read these and weep.
These clever women post beautifully styled photographs of their witty dolls, funky aprons, adorable knitted garments, ever so sweet toys and a gazillion homemade bags/scarves/embroideries, and even in one frightening case, homemade shoes.
They also complete a craft project per day, it seems.
I cannot hope to join in.
I do sew. I also knit. I have the fabrics for a quilt. Not to mention the book which contains the quilt I will one day construct (with my own quirky, nonconformist, individual touches of course).
But these women make me feel utterly, hopelessly, inadequate.
Over on my write (hahahahaha I’m sooo hilarious), are the literary blogs.
I read these and weep also.
These clever women (and the odd bloke) post about how they work in libraries, stop at other libraries and several bookshops on their way home and collect six or seven tomes, which they read overnight and then blog about, in between cooking dinner, checking the offsprings’ homework and breastfeeding the baby. They are always up on the goss regarding the latest plagiarism scandal, who one should and shouldn’t read, and who is reminiscent of whom. Or is that who?
I cannot hope to join in.
I do read. I read books,* articles, journals, essays, the newspaper, magazines.
Why, I even started my own wildly successful bookgroup two years ago.
But I cannot complete a book per day, while also running a home, holding down a part time job, studying, caring for three children, and attempting to keep up with the crafty people (see above).
Then there are the exquisite-to-look-at photography and arty blogs on neither my left or right but floating around in the ether because they are artistic and thus cannot be compartmentalised.
I don’t even bother weeping when I read these blogs as I cannot draw, paint or sculpt to save my life. Also I’m too busy trying to keep up with my craft (see above) and reading (see above) to learn still life drawing/calligraphy/photography/pastels. AND THEN BLOG ABOUT IT.
There are, of course, myriad other blogs.
Parenting blogs, bitchy blogs, humourous blogs, novel-writing blogs, blogs shared with friends, philosophical blogs, foodie blogs.
Each one so defined, so sure of itself.
I am not so sure of myself.
I have always written, read, knitted, sewed, baked. Bitched.
But I couldn’t possibly have a blog devoted to only one of these pursuits. I envy these blog owners their singlemindedness.
But I am just not like that.
So …do I fit in? Probably not.
I am a dabbler.
But a happy dabbler, I think.
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. Highly recommended.
Here are Son #2’s latest photographs.
Front and back.
The child cracks me up.