I get asked out for coffee a lot. I tend to say yes because I hate disappointing people. Also I don’t know how to say no in a nice way. Because if I have time for coffee, I have time to lay in my bed and look at the ceiling and remind myself I’m going to die.
I don’t necessarily prefer that to coffee. But I do feel uncomfortable when people ask for advice. I don’t have advice. I have experience. Which is different. But people think I know what I’m doing. So I say yes, but I ask if we can schedule it later because I’m a little overwhelmed right now.
Which is true. Often I’m on staff or on deadline and losing my fucking mind. But sometimes I’m just trying to get out of my pajamas. Which can take days. Weeks even.
All this is to say…
If you’ve ever asked me out for coffee to “pick my brain” and I’ve said yes, I’m sorry.
If you’ve ever actually HAD coffee with me, I’m also sorry.
If you are someone trying to get women to stop apologizing for everything, hey I’m with ya. But I keep fucking up. I’m sorry.
My procrastination skills are epic. I’ll do any goddamn thing not to write. Yesterday I constructed a hat organizer for my closet with cardboard tubes and jute twine. Last week I leveled my yard, laid down paver sand and astroturf, and built a wooden clubhouse for my son.
I’ll shop for shelf liners on Amazon. I’ll research ways to hang a backyard swing with no trees. I’ll learn how to speak Greek with a decent accent. I’ll make my cats into gifs. I’ll cook, clean, build, bathe, drink, swim, fight, fuck when I “should” be writing.
I made this website to keep from writing a film. It’s a film no one is waiting for, that no one asked me to write. It’s about something very personal. I’m terrified to start it. But I’m more terrified to finish it. Because then I’ll realize I got it wrong.
I think I keep writing because I keep getting it wrong.
When I announced my new website to FB (which I updated last week after like 15 years), some folks mentioned they used to read my blog on that site. I was surprised; I thought the only people who read it were the people who commented, which were few and far between. I stopped blogging when I started writing for TV, around when micro-blogging (ie: twitter) took over. I got into that like everyone else, for a hot sec. But until the other day, I didn’t realize how much I missed just posting thoughts without expectation of reply. Without feeling like I let people down if they didn’t “like” my posts. Without feeling like I’m being swept away by a river of smarter funnier more insightful people.
I don’t really want to blog, though. I do long for a place to talk casually about dumb shit without anyone feeling the need to participate. Maybe that’s here…?