The Art of Blogging

We have some great blogs that teach us about SEO, tags, back-links, Google encryption. I will never outgrow them because I believe in the science of all things. You have to learn, at least be introduced to, the Rules. Know the proper form of a Lindy or a lay-up. Unlock the mechanics, drill, know what accuracy means in your field. The thing is, machines are built for precision. In fact, we can program synthesizers to make music on their own.

But art is more than accuracy.

When my son and I run our eyes over the drum solo for the week, it reads a little like a foreign language. It is hard at first because each one he masters earns him pieces that are incrementally more challenging. My goal isn’t for him just to play the notes right for his instructor in seven days. Once he’s figured them out, I want him to get the piece under his skin, hear and then answer what the composer is asking of him. Translate it as he (not his classmates, mom, or dad) can with his hands. His whole body moves differently when he gets there. If he were graduated to the next solo just for having learned to mimic the notes, he wouldn’t be participating in the art. And that is the point of the music. We don’t watch Josh Groban for his technique. He’s got that. We want to hear what he does with it. We want to be touched by beauty. It is not for the intelligence of the chords that we close our eyes to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake with reverence. It is for the pathos and longing they resound.

So is art something you can learn? How about the art of blogging?

In his book Fresh Off the Boat, Eddie Huang remembers 7th grade football when he was a social runt desperate to fit in. Listen to what he says about the kid he was pitted against:

For the next three weeks, literally every day, Coach Rock named me player of the practice. I was an animal. Other people couldn’t compete. They were playing a game but I treated it like life and death. The zenith was about six weeks into the season. We always played simulated games on Wednesdays, Offense vs. Defense, and that day I was lined up against this new kid, Jason…He was at least five inches taller than me, with long arms, but he didn’t know how to use them.

Know what you’ve got and know how to use it.

What does this mean for me as a blogger?

Waitress: So what can I get for you today?
Yours Truly: I’ll take Combo Number 6. But hold the sugar and MSG. Very easy on the sauce, please. Can I have some more greens? No, not broccoli. Not bell pepper. More collard, if you have. And no ice in the water. Is your water filtered? Never mind, then.

Yes! You thought you liked me. Duped you. Just be glad you don’t own the shops I frequent. Or homeschool in my house. But wait. You read this blog. You (actually…and really?) want to hang out with me. See, the flip side of my particular palate is the particular palate I blog with. This – my superhero ability to be a pain in the rear – is what I use in my favor as a blogger. I don’t want cafeteria food and I figure that though you may be easy enough, you wouldn’t mind something better either. I order it for you just so before you sit down with me. It’s my exacting nature behind the topics and every word I choose, and the goals I set, that have built this blog. Some of you have a profound gift of encouragement that shines brilliantly in the comments. Now that will get you far in the blogging. Are you a social butterfly? Or is it your insight, storytelling, wit, sarcasm, passion, empathy, knowledge, creativity, or personality that you have going for you? Whatever it is, you make me so happy when you finish your plate.

Ode To My Blog

How do I miss thee? Gasp! Let me count the ways.
I miss thee to the deep, the space, and skies
My soul can reach as I strain for my prize,
For the ends of thought and ideal phrasings.
I love thee with the ease of every day’s vernacular
In most quiet need to velvet utterance on devilish wings.
I love thee unreservedly, be thy taskmaster or a friend avuncular
Through the days thou art my handmaiden of laughter.
I love thee like my child; I feed thee tenderly
And when I can’t I begin to starve; breath labors.
Oh, if time were more giving, more patient
I might dance another dance and sing what hides latent.
I miss thee that loss fills my well of joy with gravel
A week feels like two, two fortnights like four.
Parched, I am run aground on a lone shore
‘Til time should stall and bid the ink on my paper travel.

May Elizabeth Barrett Browning forgive me in her grave.

Readers’ Choice

Please respect my wishes. I. Do. Not. Want. Your. Like. On. This. Can I be any clearer, well-meaning friends? Tell you what. I will let you know when I really want it. I’ve hidden the button under the post so please don’t go tapping it on your Reader.

We’re not done with beauty. But on the heels of the party the neighbors complained about, I wanted to take the occasion to ask: What are some kinds of posts you would like to see more of here? We’ve talked about dreams, persistence, hope, death, loss, love, shame, fear, faith, parenting, achievement, money, childhood, race, culture, identity, belonging. There are the posts on clear writing and effective blogging, my helpless series on men and women, the behind-the-scenes exchanges between Mr. and Mrs. Wayfarer, dialogue between Mom and Boy – the blog plaited with poetry, with a touch of song (and dance). You seem to enjoy how I’ve used series to kaleidoscope through a topic. Thanks for welcoming our guest writers. One said that her blood froze every time she saw mail from me (laden with the edits). Wahahaha. Let’s just say your spirited support smooths things over. So suggestions and requests? You’re welcome to help steer the ship.

Come To My Party: Please RSVP

So we just talked about dancing. I waited to celebrate the 100,000 views I broke Valentine’s week with the 10,000 follows that were on their way. It’s not a medal or the Ph.D. from my alternative life but here I am. I’ll take it.

The show is 45 seconds. You know Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive? Mr. Wayfarer played it and I went with it. Here’s what I’m acting out:

Turn around now. You’re not welcome anymore.
You’re the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye.
Do you think I’d crumble, did you think I’d lay down and die?
No, not I, I will survive. Long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive.
I’ve got all my life to live and all my love to give. I’ll survive. I, I, I will survive.

It took all my strength not to fall apart, trying without my mind
to mend my broken heart. I spent so many nights feeling sorry for myself,
how I cried. But now I hold my head up high. And you see me, somebody new.
I’m not that lonely little person who’s still in love with you.
Now you come dropping in, expecting me to be free.

Now I’m saving all my lovin’ for someone who’s loving me.
Go on now, walk out the door. Turn around now, you’re not welcome anymore.
You’re the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye.
Think I’d might crumble, did you think I’d lay down and die?
No, not I, I will survive. Long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive.

But we hit a wall with the copyright and had to use a different song – not the one our son was drumming to.

Please rsvp and join the party.

Thank you doesn’t quite seem to cut it. But let me try. Deep appreciation to my most loyal likers and commenters and the quiet readers who haven’t missed a post. Thanks to those who’ve been with me from the start as well as those who find themselves coming back. Thank you to my newest readers and lastly, gratitude always to my husband and son who’ve let me be who I more fully am on the holistic journey.

 

 

 

Blogitis

Holisticpedia: [Blog-eye-tis] Blog withdrawal refers to a group of symptoms that may trigger from prolonged hiatus in posting after sustained blogging. There is no way to predict how an individual will respond in the abstinence. If you plan to break for a month after blogging drunkenly for a minimum of a year, you should consult a health care practitioner before going cold turkey or locate a support group near you.

Days 1-5
Brain has yet to process the trying spell ahead. It is still feeding off the sugar of the comments from the last post and is feeling okay enough.

Days 6-12
Brain knows something is up. Headache and mild agitation.

Days 13-21
Irritability coupled with mood swings, anxiety, paleness, increased appetite and caloric intake. Seeks comfort food, craves alcohol.

Days 22-28
Shakes, sweating, failing blood pressure, chest pain. Bad dreams (that you have forgotten your WordPress password and are calling out to your readers, the screen impermeable against silent shouts).

Days 29 – Day You’re Kidding Me.
Call 911.

 

My Vows…To You

Vows3I, Holistic Wayfarer, take thee [Insert name], to be my WordPress-registered partner. In the presence of God, our family and friends, I pledge to thee my abiding support in sickness and in health, in the homeschooling and holiday breaks (well, more during the breaks), for richer for poorer ~ no matter your blog size ~ in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh and cry with you, and value every like and comment ’til you should unfollow and do us part.

I’m Not Ready to Die

Dear God,

You caught that I’m not feeling too great but please don’t seize the occasion to take me home. At least let me get my Valentine’s series out. It’s not like you need me. Far better writers over there. And once I’ve arrived, I won’t be going anywhere, right? No hurry, no hurry.

——————

Dear Reader,

I think I’ve bought some time. Please be patient. If it’s been a while, you know I’ll visit back. Comments closed so I don’t fall behind even more on those.

Love,
HW