I’m too lazy to name you, post.

I’m baaaaaack.

(insert photo of something cool)

I don’t feel like blogging. I told myself, one blog, one episode of Walking Dead. That’s the deal. Of course, I gave myself an out. If I was too tired, or too blah, or feeling PMS-y, or ugly, or boring, or coughing or sneezing or bloated, I could give myself a break and just maybe watch Walking Dead anyway. Be kind to yourself, you know.

So. That’s what I did for like 30 consecutive days. In that time, Sadie turned 3, and my brother and his wife had a baby boy, and somehow there are two guinea pigs living in my parlor. That, and I kind of got the blues. Not depressed, not like that. What happens to me is a little bit different. It’s not like I stop washing my hair and can’t get out of bed. It’s more like, my life starts feeling less real. I start feeling less real. I start feeling like I’m looking in the window at everything and I’m not in the same space as everyone else.

And I start drifting along in a sea of laziness. I don’t feel like making decisions. I don’t feel like doing anything I don’t have to do. I nest at home even more than usual. I feel easily overwhelmed. And overriding all this, is a self-flagellating irritation that I just can’t kick it in the dick. The logical part of myself is constantly calculating my blessings, offering up pithy little sayings to the more cynical and despondent me. My inner battle isn’t between good and evil, but between wonder and despair.

Despair because I feel like we’re all fucked. Micro fucked. Macro fucked. Fucked at the cellular level. I think that’s why I’m always dreaming about apocalyptic scenarios, they’re not nightmares, they are manifestations of my desire to start over.

Wonder because I feel like we are still on the cusp of being able to change it. I feel like there is some vast untapped something out there that I just haven’t stumbled across yet. Something that is humming right behind the fabric of my existence and I’m always waiting for that curtain to be ripped away. Even though, by all appearances, I’m just an ordinary person living an unremarkable life, I have never let go of the childish fantasy that someday someone would hand me my golden sword and whisper “It is time to begin.”

(GIF of scary wizard)

So, pointlessness and malaise. And the last thing I want to do when my real life loses color and the fantasies recede, is immerse myself in a false reality where I can pretend to be something I’m not. So I’m not going to write and pretend that nothing is wrong, and I’m not going to write and put my life under a microscope for all to examine. So I went back to that old tree, and drank the elixir of the quiet. And drank deeply of that nectar of nectars, my love for my girl. I never want her to feel she comes second to a screen. And I’ve been listening to all my favorite music. Those old songs called my back to myself yet again.

There was a time not too long ago when I thought I was hot shit for half a second. I was thinking all, custom blog header, and candid photos, and videos, and collaborations. And now I’m thinking, maybe I’ll write some short stories and send them to some literary magazines. If I write a post it is because I am in the mood to share myself with you. I am feeling joyful, or playful, or angry. But please know there are parts of myself I don’t want to share with anyone.

I’m searching for something. Sometimes I look so long and so hard and come up empty-handed. Sometimes I leave my body and float away. Sometimes I come back from that dark place with a laugh bubbling up in my throat. But I always come back. It’s like I’m playing hide-and-go-seek with God. But I won’t play games with you. And I’m over thinking about branding myself or making an identity that makes sense to everyone. I need my words to be out of me, more than I need them to be understood.



  • Just back from a month in Asia, and did you know that WordPress is censored in China? A billion people, sheltered from your deep insights.

    I’ve tried a couple of times to write a book. At first I thought it would be simple, as it was intended to be non-fiction, a memoir-y thing about my life in the heyday of the tech industry. I thought, “Heck, if I write one page a day, and only throw out half of it, I’ll be done in a couple of years. I mean, really, I write more emails than that in a day.” What a moron I was. People like me write because they need to express themselves to get something accomplished. Writers write because they can’t not write. Writers write at the expense of their children, pets, personal hygiene, and job prospects. I realized that I’m not one of those people who is compelled to write. Bits of half-told stories languish on various hard drives.

    I don’t know whether you are compelled to write or not, but it sounds like maybe not, which is too bad, because you’re an obviously interesting personality. But writers generally (or at least often) suck at being parents, spouses, and in general human beings, so don’t take it hard if it doesn’t work out. Being a good Mom (or even a passable one) beats being a writer any day.

  • “It’s not like I stop washing my hair”
    Well, that would be kind of disgusting, wouldn’t it? And what kind of attention whore blogger would put THAT under the microscope for everyone to see?

    Welcome back, Nicki. 🙂

    • Girl, I’m about to rassle you if you think I am in any way criticizing your inimitable style. You are the best at laying it bare. I hide in a cave like a bear. But I feel better now. Yay! I might need to steal your “things that make me happy” like the rest of the girls, because I need to stay positive. I just logged into my blog email for the first time in weeks, thanks for the messages, I will respond posthaste. First, to respond to all these comments, and then, well fuck, I guess I need to start writing again.

  • I call it, “feeling my toenails grow”, as in, “I am so far stuck inside myself, unable to escape, that I feel my toenails grow.” But you were missed (while your toenails were growing.) And if you do run off and send all your awesomely honest. kooky, kickass writing to some literary mag, will you please at least post a link? Or a trail of breadcrumbs? Because with the snow and the aging and the kids and the minivan I just don’t have the wherewithal to go and find your writing. And it makes my day whenever I find it in my inbox. (Welcome back.)

    • You are such a fucking good writer that even your comments glow. Thank you, and even though it has taken me a full week to respond, I appreciate the support. Truly.

  • “I have never let go of the childish fantasy that someday someone would hand me my golden sword and whisper “It is time to begin.”” – This, yes. This is how I feel pretty much every day. Several times a day. Where is the magic? Where is the guide? Where is the legend? I often say, “Live is an adventure,” and it is, but that doesn’t keep me from wanting, and expecting, mine to be more like something ripped from the fantasy books that line my shelf. The real world doesn’t seem real. It seems like a holding cell, a place of waiting, for the actual real world to call to us…
    I think you should write some fiction and send them off. And best of luck if you do. You have talent, you might as well see where it can take you.
    And, when you post here, awesome. I’ll look forward to that too.

    • Thanks, man, for your (as always) thoughtful, kind, and empathetic comment. I think people who write have rich inner lives, which is a wonderful thing, but I think the curse of that is to expect more of it to bleed into the outside world than often does.

  • Even a post that seemed to speak about not wanting to post was written so eloquently. I love to see you here too, but I like the idea of you pursuing more with your writing. Do it. Take care of you, not us. I should take my own advice on this one too. It’s nice to see you, whenever I see you.

    • Thanks, Deanna. I think blogging is great, fantastic, and inspiring….when it is. When it isn’t, it can seem like one more thing to check off the list and a huge social obligation. The pendulum has swung back and I am filled with fresh enthusiasm. Let the games begin!

  • I applaud your self-awareness, Nicki.
    Now onto something truly vital and significant: Did you get my e-mail/letter of worship?
    I’m dying to know what you thought of it.

    • I just logged into my blog email for the first time in a coon’s age, and I laughed so much at your email. I will respond with more detail, as soon as I finish up these replies, and write something, and pull my head out of my ass. Just one more strong thrust, ack! Ugh! Ooo! There. It’s out. Thanks for your help.

  • I like the honesty of this post. Thank you for sharing.

    Rock on with your fiction writing. I look forward to picking up a literary magazine and seeing your work in it.

    • Ok, in true honesty? That was one more bullshit excuse on my part. If I can’t summon the gumption to post something new on my own blog, the chance of me being ambitious enough to craft an actual literary something….it’s just not happening. I was in a funk, and now I’m out. It feels good. Thanks for your support. Really. No, like really really.

  • I’m too lazy to comment. I all out of barbed witticisms. Oh, ho hum. I can’t think beyond my cold, dark commute and my inability to provide healthcare for my family. I’ll click on the telly and watch a few episodes of Space Ghost.

  • Here’s a name for your post: Dysthymia. It’s pretty common, just to make you feel less special.
    Eat your broccoli, get regular exercise & sleep, and consider randomly experimenting with happy pills. There, that’s saved your wallet from shrinkage.

    Everything you wrote is very familiar to me.
    The very real feeling that your real life hasn’t started yet should ebb away to nothing during your 40’s.

    Writing for lit mags seems like a good move.
    Or you could write a humorous column in a suitable magazine or newspaper. For an example, send them your “micro, macro and cellular-level fucked” line.

    People who work on become blog superstars can end up tiresome or a lot worse so I’m glad you’re declining that. Not that you’re not super.

    Quality not quantity, the email alerts mean it doesn’t matter if you don’t post for several months.

    • I googled this condition you speak of. It doesn’t sound like me, honestly. I don’t have low self esteem and this is not chronic. I know people have genuine, nameable mental health problems. My brother is schizophrenic, for example. But I think I just have good old-fashioned mercurial moods. And I’m ok with being sad sometimes. I think being sad clues me in to things that aren’t working in my life. And my other moods are so fun, most of the time. So, anyway. Thanks for reading and thank you for being a nice person.

      • Oh, My God! Someone else understands… It’s OK to be sad, sometime!
        Most people seem to think they should be medicated if they don’t feel “happy”.
        Thanks for being real.

  • My inner restlessness caused me to stay up all night watching the entire 3rd season of The Killing on Netflix. Sometimes that’s the best way to “check-out” when you can’t actually pack your bags and hit the open road.

  • I’m still clinging to the hope that some day Falcore from the Neverending Story will come scoop me up and we’ll fly far away while I flip the double bird to the commoners below. I get the whole general malaise thing, I do. I get it from time to time, and it’s wretched. I get ‘meh’ about everything and just can’t manage to produce two fucks to give. Eventually I stumble backwards into some sort of half-ass inspiration again. It’ll come.

    This is the point where I add the poster of the terrified kitten dangling from a branch that says, “HANG IN THERE”

    • Falcore looked like a giant Shit-Zhu, but I get your point. I really think this whole meh was mostly weather based. I’m a person who needs to, like, go outside sometimes. I’m not even talking physical activity. I’m talking, porch swing, book, breeze, iced tea. Right? I’m feeling lots better. And honestly, even Travis’ passing got me down. I don’t pretend we were best friends or anything, more of a wow someone my own age died and that could happen to me at any time and what have I really done with my life kind of thing. Thanks for being awesome, as always.

  • “It’s more like, my life starts feeling less real. I start feeling less real. I start feeling like I’m looking in the window at everything and I’m not in the same space as everyone else.”

    This. This is my life with Asperger’s Syndrome. In one succinct paragraph you have explained to people what I have been trying to explain for twenty five years. You get it. Without realising it, you get it. Thank you.

    • I appreciate your kind words. I’m glad I could help. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have Asperger’s. But. I am far, far more awkward than people ever realize and I find it hard to behave normally in social situations pretty much always.

  • There’s a part of me that waits for the first CNN reports to come in about the catastrophic event that causes global chaos. I’ll ponder it and think, “I’m not really prepared for a doomsday scenario, so what will I do first?” It’s the opposite of lottery fantasy. Thanks for reminding me that fantasy’s not always about sex and fame.
    Good luck with the short stories!

  • I’ve felt like this, lots of times… mostly I tend to be amazed anyone is much interested in what I have to say. Then again, it tends to vaciliate between “deep thoughts blah blah blah”, “herp derp”, and “HULK SMASH PAIN! I am Grumpasaurus Rex! Flee frome me!”

      • Why thank you 🙂 I’m just very bad at faking things.

        There’s a really good idea– I’m sure my wonderful ladies (Cimmorene and our daughter) would contribute very well to such a project, illustrations and all.

  • Dude, I totally hear you with the blues. I went through that from Late October to early January (I used to be there all the time, this one caught me off guard, as it’s beeen soooo looong since I’ve felt that).
    It sucked, I couldn’t kick it in the dick, as much as I tried. Then I noticed after months of not feeling right, wanting to shut myself in, questioning the most basic happiness’s in my life and generally feeling like a phony version of myself, that the haze has faded and I did feel like me again.
    But I still totally feel the “something untapped” /”you’re a wizard, Harry”, moments all the time. It’s gotta happen, right??


    • Miss Margot, I can finally say that I have joined you in the land of the living. I held out against the blues as long as I could, but this winter finally got me. Now I’m on the other side, and it’s that blahness that doesn’t seem real. I am filled with excitement and ready for the future. It is two such totally opposite people that occupy my body.

  • Glad to see you, even for a minute. Everyone feels this way sometimes; some more than others.

    Just write for you, when you feel like it, and we will appreciate it.

    • I won’t! I just needed a minute. Even after that last post, I needed a minute. This was my, its ok I’m still alive people post, event though I was stilling pulling one foot from the grave. But I am happy to say I am back on solid ground, and ready to rock.

  • I agree with the above: you did put it well (how you feel) as you always do and it’s reassuring to other writers of this world and when are you going to write a novel I would love to read it?! I’m reading the books you recommended on your last blog right now. You are a celeb of the blog world and it must be hard to keep up with it. I’ve never had a comment on any of my blogs so I’m blissfully unaware of whatever being a blogstar brings. I think you’re awesome and it seems a lot if others do too 🙂

  • You are like a friend that travels a lot, we’ll see you when you get back.

  • Ditto! “And I start drifting along in a sea of laziness. I don’t feel like making decisions. I don’t feel like doing anything I don’t have to do. I nest at home even more than usual. I feel easily overwhelmed.” Exactly how I’ve been feeling. Sigh. I’m sorry you are going through this. But, I thank you for sharing it because it confirms that we are NOT ALONE. 🙂

  • ooohhhhhhh!!! love it!! Reading you makes me realise it’s not just me waiting for that golden sword.. !! And I’ve rebranded my blog for my seven, (nine on a good day), followers so many times just waiting for that magic moment. I’ve discovered that doing what I do best.. doodling.. keeps me happy, and that’s all it’s about in the long run…

    • Thanks for getting it. I need this blog to be a fun escape for me. I let myself take it too seriously. I wont’ make that mistake again.

  • Not to sound stalker-ish but I have thought about you on occasion lately…just kind of wondering where you went. This pretty much sums it up, beautifully. I won’t lie, I fell in to that “my shit smells like roses” farce too. Eventually, most of the ego rubs just started to feel generic. I blog on but only to tell stories I want to hear, not what I think other’s are waiting to hear.

    And I say dive in to writing fiction! I jumped head first in to some pretty tough prompted writing challenges and it brought a lot of the passion for writing and creativity back alive.

    • Thanks, girl. I am finally feeling like blogging again. It was just such a wild ride in the beginning. and I forgot for a minute this is my fun hobby. I’m ready to dive back in, with a readjusted attitude.

      • The way you entered the world of blogging, I would imagine, was both a blessing and a curse. I can definitely understand needing to step away from it. I’m glad you’re ready to get back in the game though…your honesty, outlook and humor is needed around here. 🙂

  • Sis: if i had to pick between another stellar post or your happiness, im going with your happiness. The power (or sword/magic bullet) is inside you. When it comes (or doesnt) it comes.

  • You’re not alone, girl! I say, own it. If you don’t feel like writing because it doesn’t feel genuine, don’t. If you want to write about not feeling like writing, know that you aren’t alone in the least. If you want to write about how you recently reconnected with muenster cheese–save it for next week because that’s something I’m actually considering after dinner yesterday.

    Glad to see you back around-ish!

    • Katie, you’re awesome. And I have never unconnected with muenster cheese in order to reconnect with it. We’re tight, always have been, me and Muenster. And cheddar, and brie, and goat, and even American. But not gorgonzola. Seriously, though, thank you for being supportive. I’m finally feeling like doing this again.

  • You are in no way ordinary.
    I sat and watched the entire third season of The Walking Dead last weekend. I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want to write. I didn’t want to read. I get where you’re coming from. Damn you Netflix for making it so easy for me to do nothing for 12 straight hours.

    • Season 3 was crazy! The Governor was such an intriguing character. I don’t want to give you any spoilers, but season 4 is even better, if that’s even possible. The Walking Dead is far and away my favorite show. But if you haven’t checked out the Netflix originals Orange is the New Black or House of Cards, they are both incredibly good. Damn you Netflix!

  • Yep! I’m the same way, I love attributing it to “winter blues” but it’s hard to call it such when I’m that way in August. Ups n downs. And honestly, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the downs, we can’t always be “manic” as my bi-polar friend calls her “up swings”. But it’s the times when you are expecting that golden sword and obstinately waiting for it at the door that you gotta worry about – instead of realizing that it’s probably not gonna get delivered today and well fuck it, let’s go do something fun, or take a nap.

    LOVE what you said about branding and all that. To me all this validation and branding and all that is the internet going all capitalist or hollywood on itself – but thinking that it’s not at the same time because that’s not what the internet and blogging is about *coughsbullshitcoughs*. You’ve always come across as real, and real means 30 days of NOT blogging because you just don’t wanna! And real means, maybe a longer break cause you’re gonna try something new that you may or may not share and it’s none of our damn business, thank you very much.

    Selfishly I’m super happy to see you back, and selfishly I hope you stay, but selflessly as a fan, I’m gonna always high-five you no matter what you do – unless it’s really stupid, then I’ll kick your ass and tell you I love ya.

    OK. Back to the couch.

    • Dave, I am sorry it has taken me a week to reply, but I just wanna say that you always leave the best fucking comments. Yes, yes, and yes to everything you said. It’s ridiculous that ordinary people think they need to brand themselves. Hell, it’s ridiculous that famous people brand themselves. People are not commodities! Except when they are, I guess. But I am out of this malaise at last and look forward to more discourse with you as I write some more stuff.

  • Do what you have to do, it’s your life and you have to live it your way, just as we should and most of us do.

  • Well I didn’t expect that for your return. I think maybe you just live in the same abstraction people who want to tell stories find themselves in. Different versions of life, some that resemble this one, some that don’t. We’re not fucked, Nicki. You’re not fucked. The apocalypse might happen anyway, and it might seem like we would be fucked, but if every computer incinerated itself and every pen ran out of ink, I would still write my message, even if I had to do that by pissing in the snow. In this, I’m way advantaged compared to you. Plus my penmanship (so to speak) is impeccable.

    I write because burning the world to ashes seems like a bad alternative. I think you have a vivid slightly relentless style of writing that isn’t perhaps typical of constructed blog posts. I have nothing against blog posts. I write them myself. But I think there’s a difference between writing something for consumption and writing something you can strap on and sexualize to your heart’s content. I guess I’m saying that yeah, you writing short stories is probably a great idea. Or not. Doesn’t matter. I hope you try. And anyway, you end up sharing more about yourself through stories that aren’t about yourself in the end than you do in the mundane recollection of how you stepped in a poop pile or went to work without pants on, so it’s a no-win situation. Only you do win. And you keep winning.

    Fuck branding and image, and stats collecting and blog records and traffic, none of that is real at the end of the day. It’s worse than money. It’s something we get conditioned for, allow ourselves to do. Something we strive for, like we’re validating ourselves with every little bump-up. I’m generalizing, I know people don’t always do it for those reasons. Just the same as people don’t drink to get buzzed. Or close the door at work to masturbate. If it makes you happy, what’s so bad about it. You didn’t hurt anyone. Sure, you might build some kind of empire and use it to abuse your cronies or disciples or whatever you might want to call them. Then it’s bad. And then, yeah, I think you’re fucked.

    But everything else is okay.

    Who am I to speak? I’m a wizard. And I’m going to roast a cow in my wizard’s bonfire tonight, while drunk on Crown Royal. You can count on it.

    • Trent, I suck at life because it took me a week to respond to this most epic of comments. You are a wizard indeed. I think you get me. That is an awesome feeling. I’m happy to be back in bloglandia. I’m happy to be back amongst you nuts.

  • Welcome back.
    (insert GIF of confetti flying)
    I’m sorry you’ve had a bit of a shit time and I’m (sort of) sorry for harassing you to come back to us. That’s incredible about your Netflix-bargaining– I do the same damn thing.
    I’m glad you’re not going to concoct a false reality and lure us in with smoke and mirrors. The internet has enough of that already– we should be able to freely throw our shit all over the place and have other shit throwers be like “why yes, my shit looks and smells just like yours.”
    (insert PHOTO of shit flying)
    I feel like I need to wrap this comment up. But I’m just going to let it sort of trail off aimlessly….

    • Aussa, you’re fabulous in every possible way. My shit was flying every which way for a little while there. But I have shoveled it up and I am done moping. I will figure out a way to go to BlogHer, and do all the other things I want to know, but for now I just need to get back to writing posts. And I have a lot of catching up to do on my favorite blogs, like yours.

  • Glad to see you back. Even if it’s just now and then 🙂 I know exactly how you feel and I’ve been hiding in my fortress of solitude as well.

    This blogging world is a hard one and sometimes you just have to go outside and get some fresh air.

    When it’s not 12 degrees out.

      • Oh gosh we have some today and it’s lovely! I blasted some Beastie Boys and took the dogs out for an extra long walk.

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