In My Own Defense

I am blogging again, right. And I’m making a podcast and I have another website and facebook and Instagram that I am kind of going to  be working on with my new marketty personie supportedy person aka Evie.

So, like theoretically, like in an imaginary parallel universe, right. You know, like its not going to happen, I am fully aware this isn’t going to happen. But it might, it won’t, but it could. You know, so I like should be prepared. I mean, like, my youngest daughter is terrified about me even being on the internet and social media, because you know…

Okay, clearly, I don’t want to say this out loud. Because it will make me sound vain, well vain and delusional. But then there are some other people out there who have… Bite the bullet time.

Where did that phrase come from? Bite the bullet? I have this hazy memory of a show where a home-made bullet needed to be crimped and they called that biting it, but I can’t quite remember and it might have been a dream. So, this is meaningless isn’t it?

Unless someone out there reads this and knows the answer and writes about it in the comments, and then we’d all know a little bit more about stuff. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? But realistically, it’s so unlikely to happen. I mean it could, but it probably won’t. Just like this thing I have skilfully been avoiding talking about.

Well not that skilfully, I am the one that just brought it back up again.

I need to bite the bullet. And not discuss bullet biting. Not anymore.

What if I get famous?

I know its not going to happen. I’ve already discussed this. I’m not going to become famous. But what if I do?

My youngest is just paranoid that I am going to get a lot of hate. And, yes, I have read my stuff, I know she has a point.

So just in case I become even slightly famous, and I get lots of hate. You know for making fun of my precious demon spawn, or the evil hag that lurks in the granny flat just to make my life miserable. Or that I am a spoilt, high maintenance (rude word) to my saint like husband. And other unfathomable criticisms people might have, obesity, not vegan, selfish, spendthrift, arrogant, owning pets. This is getting depressing, so I’m going to stop.

So, I thought, I might get my defences in first. Well not about the pet owning or vegan thing, I have opinions but I am not sharing them until I have to. I have nothing against many vegans, but there is a lot of well activisty stuff that is just… Well it makes the area a dangerous place to visit.

So here are my mitigations:

1. Yes, I make up words. I love language, the twists, turns and history of it. It is not hypocritical to insist on correct language use in competition, ie. CODEWORD puzzles, and playing with meaning and form in artwork, yes my writing is art, bad art possibly, but the principle still holds true. It’s like the distinction between judges who are bound by the law and shouldn’t break rules although they can interpret them, and political commentators and law makers, whose job it is to conjecture and speculate about laws constantly, moving towards appropriate change. In a puzzle, the rules and the boundaries need to be clear for the competition or game to be fair and enjoyable. Whereas in a piece of writing the emphasis is on communication and or entertainment, so, the artistic fusing of words and word segments to create a more precise or illustrative piece of work is not only appropriate it is laudable.
2. Okay, the big one.
   • My husband’s mother-in-law, you know the aforementioned evil hag, and I get on rather well. I run my jokes past her. I have made posters for her door, I even created an entire ‘Hag Magazine’ (making a magazine was the writing exercise) for her to feel at home. She thinks its all funny. She joins in, she gives as good as she gets. And I never pick on any aspect of her life that actually upsets her, on purpose. Mainly because she absolutely terrifies me. But long story short, this is not behind her back.
   • My husband’s children, the previously referenced demon spawn, they know about the jokes. Or they could know all of them if some of them wouldn’t refuse to listen to me when I read them stuff. They all studied drama, they understand the concepts of characterisation and exaggerated stereotyping. We have a rule, we do not tease each other about things that upset us, except the kids aren’t always good at it. I’m the only one in danger. You know like in martial arts the expert is in danger from the beginner. You can see they are involved, they pose for the pictures. Leave me alone.
   • As for Saint Gavin, he has enough defenders, shut up. I mean, he has his problems, almost all of them are his disability, and arguably they aren’t his fault, but there not mine either, and I have to put up with it. And he watches cricket, and I am not entirely sure that is his disability. I mean it could be because he is a male, but that is not an official disability, so he gets no sympathy. And, quite frankly, if he doesn’t leave me its his own fault, I mean legally I could not force him to take custody of all the kids (and Mum) full time, he has rights, he can hide. He is happy, playing the martyr and I don’t know. Shut up, Gavin is fine.

   So, when I get famous, I will point people back at this post to prove I am not as bad as they think. I am not, Shut up.

My dogs love me!