"Blogging is such a weird thing. It is talking to yourself and inviting others to listen in. It is shouting into a crowd and hoping to be heard. It is a community of isolated, solitary individuals, tapping away at keyboards together alone. It is writing practice and social networking. It is the study of human nature, your own and everyone else's.
It is, like most things, the sum of its parts and then some." ~ The Masked Mom
Inspired by that Masked Mom, I began my own blog when I was housebound in 2009. It's a classic example of the swirling nature of a blog without a "goal" or designated intention. Originating in the simple desire to connect with somebody, somewhere, who could help me step out of the box inside my head, it swirls all over the place from simple marketing updates, project news, and rambling thoughts. I never really defined what I wanted it to be. And so, that is still what this is. Most of my bloggy posts happen on patreon now, but I do attempt to pop in and put some original ideas and updates here, too.
At that time, I also began using social media to share photos with my little sister on the opposite coast of the country... and to stalk my children, especially my youngest daughter who graduated from high school with an Advanced Regents Diploma at sixteen and moved to New York City then to follow her own star.
(Yes. I am a proud Mom.)
Social media connected me to many other arachnoiditis survivors. Making art and finding those connections probably saved my life. There-in lies the origins of my love-hate relationship with social media. Though I have used it as a tool to stay in touch with family and friends far away and found many new meaningful, fulfilling, long-term connections online in these years because of it, I have also had to navigate the addictions of screen time and the blatant ickiness of some of the people who profit from its use.
To rationalize my own use, I try to comfort myself with the idea that the good achieved may help balance what they do with the profits. But, I am not sure I truly believe my little bit of good carries that much weight.
All of this is the preamble to my move away from some platforms (again) to focus more on staying connected here, on Patreon, and learning how to find connections on Substack during these unlawful times.
Who is that Masked Mom?
"I'm the mother of four children, ages 21 to 28, grandma to one, employed full-time in the chemical dependency field, writer in personality if not always in practice, married twenty-eight years, waiting less and less patiently for all the hard-earned wisdom to kick in so I can relax and coast a while...."
Writing since somebody taught her to form words on a page, working, Momming, Aunting, Sistering, Daughtering, Friending, Loving, Learning, Hoping, Lifeing.....and Blogging (from 2005 - 2016) she is missed every day. [R.I.P. 7.27.1968-2.5.2017]
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Sunday, May 15, 2005
Who is that Masked Mom?
She's an uneasy cross between Superman and June Cleaver, between the Lone Ranger and Jill Taylor, between Spiderman and Marian Cunningham, between Wonder Woman and Rosesanne Connor before the real-life Roseanne's personal dramas drained the show of all its heart.
She has some superpowers--the same ones required of all parents in our demanding times. She juggles: schedules, committments, guilt. She bestows magic kisses on scraped knees while reassuring her boss on the phone that her project is on track. She is the ultimate multi-tasker. If she could be two places at one time, that would still leave her feeling guilty about the third and fourth places she should be...
This space isn't about her superpowers, though, but about the ways she's all too human. Her alter ego--Clark Kent meets Carol Brady?--is often overwhelmed, occasionally panicked, perpetually exhausted.
I am that alter ego--mother of four children, ages 10 to 16, employed full-time, married eighteen years, waiting less and less patiently for all the hard-earned wisdom to kick in so I can relax and coast a while...
AND....................................... WE MISS HER
Cancer Sucks
(Image: DNR)
