Mamacita says: Old school? Me? Yes. Thirteen years ago, in April of 2004, a former student told me that I should start a blog. “You’ve got such a lot to say about the world,” he said. “Who cares what I think about the world?” I replied. “Lots of people would,” he said.
I couldn’t imagine that. I’m nobody. However, Wes was an exceptionally wise person even back then, so in early May of 2004, Scheiss Weekly was born. I still wondered if he was right. I was still nobody, and I still wondered if anything I had to say would be considered even remotely interesting to anybody else.
Since then, I’ve been to conferences all over the country, and spoken to crowds of people, both individually and on panels. People seem to recognize me even before they see my name tag. People tell me that such-and-such a post helped/spoke to them/influenced them, etc. It’s really, really humbling. And exciting. And humbling. Who would have thought it? Me, with a large readership and people who seemed to like me and take me seriously? It’s like a dream. The good kind, that comes true because you never dreamed it would be possible but it really did and you’re in shock and awe and Oz and Wonderland. And Narnia and Hogwarts. And the Tardis. And all the people who live in those places. And hanging out with people who knows what those places are, and who know who lives there.
Businesses found this blog, and liked my style. Um, my writing style. (My fashion style is liked by nobody, not even me, but I digress. . . .) (Oh, okay, I have no fashion style. But I am one hell of a writer, and I know this social media stuff inside and out. And I am good.)
People hired me, based on this blog, to represent their businesses online. I love doing this, and I appreciate that trust more than words could ever express. The clients I have now have become friends, and I would lie down in the road for them. I use their goods and services and ideas myself, and everything I write about them is true. But I digress again. . . .
Blogging is not dead. It’s still alive. It’s alive, and well, and thriving, and still as cool as it was in May of 2004. It’s still a wondrous journey, and although I have no idea what the final destination might be, it’s the journey that’s the real experience, whether we’re headed to Disney World or Shoe World or Kroger’s or the moon or parts unknown.
I’ve met so many wonderful people during this journey. Some of them are still virtual friends, while I’ve met many face-to-face, but I’ve also learned during these thirteen years that online friends can be as real as face-to-face friends. Sure, there are creeps out there, but no more so than the number of creeps at the mall.
I’ve learned not to be afraid of the world. The world is actually pretty awesome, and it’s full of cool things and fantastic people. Sure, there are fiery volcanic pits and treacherous waterfalls and cockroaches and tidal waves and tornadoes and school superintendents and vicious psychotic murderers and insane reality show morons who somehow become president and distracted underinsured drivers and fake friends who stab you in the back and people who lie, cheat, & steal, but there are also rainbows and sunsets and flowers and purring cats and awesome mothers and lifesaving dogs and Monk and clean sheets and cousins and people who are good, true friends. The forever kind. I have also learned, to my intense sorrow, that issues can cause some people to renounce friendship. I would never do that to a friend, but I know now that there are people who do.
That I would still be here thirteen years after beginning this funky little blog is amazing to me, and yet, it’s also unthinkable to abandon it, as many are abandoning blogging for the shorter Twitter and Facebook and Instagram. Oh, I’m on those, too, but this blog saved my soul alive thirteen years ago, and it’s done nothing but nourish me ever since. I am so grateful to the internet. Really, I am. It’s a world of wonderful people, a world that was always there, but we had no way of accessing it easily. Now, we can travel anywhere, see anything, contact anyone, and work for a business that’s a thousand miles away, in our pajamas, at midnight. We participate in the lives of people we could never have known before. We watch their children grow up. We know what they like best to eat. We see pictures of their homes. And they know us.
Thirteen years I’ve known this. Before that, I was limited to a very small area, geographically and socially. Now, there are no limits.
Thank you, dear readers, for making me feel special. Thirteen years is as an eternity in the internet world, but somehow I don’t feel old when I’m here. I’m happy when I’m on Scheiss Weekly. I’m happy reading your comments. I love visiting YOUR blogs. I love visiting with you on the other social media sites, too, but I don’t think anything could ever completely replace a blog. In thirteen more years, I guess we’ll find out.
Also, I wonder if you really understand the title of this blog. Scheiss Weekly. Who speaks German? C’mon. I tried to get Scheiss Daily, but somebody already owned it. When I started writing here, I chose the title because it seemed like a pretty accurate and humorous description of what I did for a living: teaching in a public school.
That was in late April. In early May, I wasn’t doing that any more. For no fault of my own, I wasn’t doing that any more.
I was traumatized when I began this blog, and that is not an exaggeration. Thirteen years ago, I was traumatized, and I had been betrayed by people I had trusted, and my heart was broken and I was foundering, and the title reflected that. I’m fine now, but the title keeps me humble. And fairly sane, although my children might argue that fact.
Time marches on. Time flies. And yet, it really doesn’t. Time stands still. We march. With every blink of the eye, yes, and briefer even than that, our lives are moving ever swiftly towards their ends. It’s this middle that we must make the most of. I am. I hope you are, too.
Here’s to thirteen more years. At a time, anyway. A day at a time, and they add up to years.
I love you all. Literally.