Thursday, July 28, 2016

top 10 ways to not write your blog

1.) Start four different posts that you immediately hate because they are trite and/or uninteresting and/or boring for even you to read. Do not finish these posts.

2.) Sign up for a three-week new student pass at a local yoga studio and take a vinyassa and a barre class back-to-back. Be amazed at how much your abs now hurt and decide that your computer is much too far away from the couch; you couldn't possibly write anything now.

3.) In anticipation of blogging about it, take a zillion pictures of your favorite necklace that broke in a Macy's dressing room but you managed to fix so it's nearly as good as new. Compare your pictures to any number of necklace-based instagrams, get discouraged, delete the pictures, do not write about the necklace.

4.) Have a meltdown about a variety of wedding-related issues, including but not limited to: a never-ending search for first the "perfect" pair of shoes, than an "acceptable" pair of shoes, than "any f'ing pair that fits and looks remotely close to what I originally wanted;" the sheer panic you feel every time you get a wedding present and have no idea where to put it in your teeny-tiny one-bedroom apartment; the outrageously high cost of hiring a hair and makeup artist to turn you into a photogenic sun goddess for the day of the wedding; the incredulousness of "escort cards" (those things that tell your guests what table they're sitting at) and how something that someone will use for five seconds can cost so damn much and be so complicated to organize. Do not use any of this material as fodder for a series of articles to feature on your blog.

5.) Take a day trip upstate to see an opera recital. Romp through the woods, revel in the quiet of nature, and take an obscene amount of selfies with your iPhone camera remote (because that's who you've become now). Share the best selfie to instagram and fall asleep on the bus ride home because you've had a long day.

6.) Mope around like a sad puppy because one of your closest friends in New York had the audacity to move all the way to Boston to be with her fiancĂ©. Bake two dozen unnecessary yet delicious rosemary shortbread cookies in an attempt to dull the pain.

7.) Have a second meltdown because you can't find a dress to wear to your upcoming wedding shower. Try on every dress in Manhattan and most on ModCloth. Curse the clothing industry, your genetic history of short torsos and large ribcages, and your penchant for tater tots. Try on a jumpsuit. Curse everyone and everything. Search Pinterest for more ideas and get instantaneously demoralized because every dress looks as though it's being modeled by a professional fashion blogger because everyone on that site is a professional fashion blogger. You can't get five people to read your blog. You just need one peach-colored dress to wear. You should go back to bed.

8.) Use the time you'd normally spend prepping posts for the week to apply for dozens of "real jobs" because you're 32 and this whole freelance thing just isn't cute any more. Obsessively refresh your inbox as you wait for those offers to roll in. Wonder if gmail is down. Send yourself an email from another address to make sure the internet is working. Contemplate moving to a country with free universal healthcare. Like Iceland. Iceland could be fun.

9.) Spend waaaay too much time researching options for the upcoming NYC Restaurant Week and make sure to get your reservations in as soon as the site goes live because last year you got crappy time slots and you will NOT be slighted again.

10.) Contemplate opening an Etsy store for your embroidery designs. Do not let the fact that you have no previous embroidery experience deter you. Spend hours at Michael's fussing around with different thread color combinations, doodle a bunch of new patterns, and make a test piece to give to your partner for his desk at work. Decide it doesn't look too bad and move forward with your new business venture. Do not waste precious time blogging about it because that would be ridiculous.

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