I was messing around on the web before bed last night (one of those sessions when you plan to “just check a couple of things” and end up on the computer for an hour). In my travels I came upon a Blog called Boltgirl on the Loose that I enjoyed quite a bit … and there went my time.
Aside from enjoyable writing, I found lots of intriguing ideas there (like brief blurbs about music, restaurants, books – all in the sidebar). Exploring the site got me thinking about how many fascinating people there are in the world. The woman writing Boltgirl is funny, smart, engaged, thoughtful, a great writer … and did I say funny?
But close on the heels of these thoughts, I can feel my mind edging its way toward depression. Nothing deep, mind you. More the junior high school version of depression … I don’t say the right things, don’t have the right clothes … my glasses are weird … that sort of thing. “I’ll never measure up to Boltgirl,” I think whinily. (Is that even a word? If not, let’s coin it right here!) Her blog is fast-paced and full of zingers, witty and biting. I feel pedantic and plodding. I write like I have a damn bun … and stiff posture … and sensible shoes. (Okay, maybe the latter is true, but I wouldn’t know how to make a bun if my life depended on it.)
Ugh – this is no way to start a Saturday! How come I can’t appreciate someone else’s talents without turning it on myself like an insatiable, impossible-to-please, competitive stage mother?
Oops … did I say mother? Aha!