The Art of Maybe

Do you know how many drafts I have saved for blog ideas? Or actual blogs I just never posted?

Go ahead. Take a guess.

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32!!!

Thirty-two blogs.

I never realized how much I’ve wanted to say, but just don’t say until I look at that number. I’m sure there will be people out there who say, “well, why won’t you just post it then?”

See, here’s the thing.

We have freedom of speech. Everyone knows that it’s supposed to be a right.  BUT. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t come without consequences. You can’t just go around saying whatever you want to say and expect nothing to happen. Do you have the right to say it? Sure of course you do. However, once you put something out on the internet, it is there forever. Forever is a long time. And ONE thing… some simple thing…can change someone’s perspective on you.

“But Megan, stop caring what other people think about you.”

Honestly, that’s bullshit. It’s so easy to say for people who have anonymous blogs. I do think the majority of us deep down care what other people think about us. I sure do. I have opinions. LOTS of them. But is it worth sometimes coming off like a jerk just to exercise the freedom of speech? Not really, no.

Okay, I hear ya. “Well, if you aren’t even saying what you want to say, then are you even being real? Is this your fake personality.”

No. No it isn’t. I don’t write about things that are false. I don’t fake an opinion. I just chose what to write about and not write about… publicly. I have had plenty of conversations in person with family and friends that I would never post on my blog. It’s censorship of my blabbering mouth. Not a fake personality.

I’m not here to talk about huge world issues, specifically politics or religion. And I do think it’s very easy to stay away from those topics if I’m being truly honest; however, I think that fear still trickles down into the rest of my writing when it shouldn’t.

Maybe it is because I grew up before social media.

Maybe it is because I don’t really believe in my writing.

Maybe it is because I’m afraid people don’t really know my sense of humor.

Maybe I’m just straight up lazy.

Maybe I’m out of ideas.

I don’t know. But year after year I have some sort of an excuse to not keep up with my writing. (Or I do keep up and just not post it.)

There comes a time where all the maybes start defining who you are as a person. And it defines your writing style. All the maybes start becoming a firm no. “No do not post that.” “No you cannot say those things.” There are no longer any debates about what to do.

And you know what the irony is?

I like to write about wine, food, running, and travelling. And the occasional poem, which I haven’t shared in a very long time. Literally none of that is political or racial or controversial. Will people have opinions on it? of course. It’s the internet and people can’t scroll passed a meme about peanut butter and jelly without complaining about it. I do have thick skin when it comes to comments and corrective criticism. In fact, I always embrace it. When corrective criticism is actually that, and not “i’m going to tell you something mean just to be an asshole,” it really does help us grow.

What I’m saying is that maybe I just really don’t have an excuse as to why I’m a terrible blogger. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hopefully I can pull myself together at some point to actually write from time to time!

Until then!

Cheers.

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The Honking Game

This morning, I decided that Starbucks was a necessity to get through my Monday morning. Hello Grande Hazelnut Latte to the rescue. Thankfully, there’s a Starbucks across the street from where I work, so I can get there and back in less than 7 minutes. As I walked out of the Starbucks, I see that I had 6 seconds left of my turn to cross the street, so I ran across while clutching onto my red cup. Seriously, those stoppers have saved burns on my hand SO many times!!

HONK! HONK!

I turned around to see that there was still a second left to cross, so I knew it wasn’t just a honk from an impatient taxi driver since the light was still red. I turned back around to walk up to work and I heard the honk again! I checked my pocket thinking that my badge fell out of my pocket. Nope. Still in my pocket. I turned around to see an older truck driver waving and smiling at my “Hi!! Hi Miss” then sped off.

Really?

Maybe because I haven’t drank of my coffee yet and slept very poorly the night before, I am slightly more irritated with this than I should be. I just don’t get it. What do you really get out of honking at someone?

-Did I drop something that you were trying to get me to see?
-Do you know me?
-Was I crossing when I should have waited?

If you answered “no” to these, then why am I getting honked at? Because you think I’m pretty? What does that do for you? Do you really think that ANY girl you honk at randomly is just going to hop on into the passenger seat and plant a wet one on you? No. No that is NOT going to happen.

I get really annoyed when my friends tell me, “well, you should take it as a compliment because they thought you were pretty.” Maybe I’m the crazy then, but honking at me is NOT a compliment. Honking is associated with rude or wrongful behavior. I honk when:

-someone cuts me off.
-someone is swerving.
-someone doesn’t go when the light turns green.
-someone is running late and still inside their house, and I want them to hurry up.
-animals are in the middle of the road and won’t move. Geese are the worst!!

How then can I associate honking at me as a compliment?

… and don’t even get me started on whistling.

End to rant of the day.

xoxo
megs