First of all I a sad story. A classmate of my wife returned home to be with his dying father. On his first night in town the son died in his sleep. The father died later in the day. I wonder how people handle things like that, but I guess we just handle it. The feeling of grief and disorientation in a situation like that is unfathomable. The clock is ticking, we just don’t know what time the alarm is set to.
And now as promised, and I know you have been waiting breathlessly for this next self indulgent spew, I’m going to publicly work through my thinking process as I try to decide just what the hell I’m writing this blog for. I think the first thing I need to establish is what I’m NOT going to write about.
I’m not going to write about family drama. Not that there isn’t plenty to write about. Although I’m only part Scando-German, I grew up in Minnesota, and we don’t even talk about that stuff to each other, let alone broadcast it. Remember the Norwegian farmer who loved his wife so much he almost told her? That’s not a joke, it’s a statement of fact. Same goes with friends, I have enough trouble with relationships, I seem to have a talent for pissing people off. I don’t need to hang those shorts out in public. I might make an exception in the name of self deprecating humor, my social ineptitude makes for some pretty amusing situations.
I’m not going to write about politics. Mostly because I’m just not qualified. I’m kind of a knee-jerk liberal, a liberal by faith and instinct. I’m really not very good at defending my principles. I’m not even sure I have principles. I’ll leave that to others, like these guys. Unless I just get so pissed off at the Republicans or the Tea Baggers or Sarah Palin or Michelle Bachman that I just can’t keep my mouth shut.
And finally I’m NOT going to write about the inner workings of my bowels. In an earlier post I mentioned how dooce has made a fortune writing about her constipation. I have the opposite problem, Crohn’s disease. There is a big difference between writing about constipation and writing about having a bad case of the runs. The latter is about the lack of shit, the other is all about shit. And all though I’ve tried to deal with this shitty situation with humor, and it has provided lots of material for humor, I don’t want to run the risk of over sharing.
So what the hell should I write about?