I have spent the last couple weeks pondering a great deal about what I want to do next with my life (take over the world), what makes me really happy (writing and being at home), how can I squeeze more blood out of the rock that is my average day (impossible) and how on Earth I can actually get in a solid eight hours of sleep (get ready for bed starting at 7 PM instead of 8 which I usually fail at anyway… yeah, I know).

Besides all of that, I’ve been doing a lot of reading about blogging.  How to write better.  How to make time to write.  When to write.  Where to write.  What to write about.  And I’ve come to the conclusion that I love my blog and the writing that I get to do, even if it’s not always the best I can do.  I’m working on that.

I’ve thought about my strong suits for writing.  I’ve considered the “theme days” I have which really aren’t even themes with perhaps the exception of MLiP Wednesdays (that would be: My Life in Pictures) where I try to post a decent photo I’ve taken with a story about it.  I’ve considered what people in my life have told me about my writing, too.  Some have loved my fiction (not posted here) and commented that I write it very well, that I have a way with words.  Others love the style on this blog, commenting that it’s like reading a letter from a friend – that I make people feel like what I write is just for them.

I’m bombarded with messages from blogging sites that I should be catering to the whims of my public.  Does that mean I should suddenly start blogging about being a mom (I’m missing that gene) and children because I’ve suddenly acquired a few dozen “Mommy Bloggers” on Twitter?  Hell no.  That would make me a sell-out; but of course – if someone out there wants to pay me to write blogs about mothering and kids… I’ll do it.  Money talks.

I guess that last sentence leads me to the next thing I’m good at – telling it like it is.  I have never considered myself popular or a member of cliques.  I shun them.  I prefer being the “Woman in Black”, the black sheep, the person at the far end of the bar or in the corner who really doesn’t give a shit if people don’t like what I think, say or do.  I’ve never been a good people-pleaser; I’ve always been much better at doing whatever the hell I want as long as nobody gets hurt.  Being an outlier suits me well and I will tell people “how it is” if I need to.

So what does that mean for this blog?  Maybe nothing.  I might very well continue on with my present course of writing when I can about topics that matter to me.  Then again, maybe it means that once in a while I reveal a little bit more about myself that makes people sit back and think, “Wow… I would never have thought…”

Why?  Because life is simple but humans are complicated, so we make life complicated.  Because what we look like on the outside may not match what is on the inside.  Because I like to instigate conversations that make people uncomfortable and make them think.  Because I detest following the crowd.  Because ultimately – I’m complicated, just like each and every person who may end up reading this blog.  I’m not special, unique – yes, but not special.  Nobody is.  But yet, we’re all complicated.

Ponder that.