200th post. Part I

i.e. 199th post.

199 posing as 200.

Because I miscalculated. That's how hard anything to do with numbers kicks my posterior.

It actually kicked it all the way into Tuesday. And, really, how cool is that? Math really kicked me all the way into Tuesday.

It's practically poetic.

I'm almost ashamed to admit that I actually did this whole complicated piece of math last week involving the fingers of not only my right hand but some on my left as well, regarding how many posts from 200 I was. My fingers betrayed me. It might or might not be payback from all of that nose picking. They won't admit to anything.

Or maybe I'm just really tired after having played a really awesome round of golf with the Hubs who did equally well. And, because we didn't drive around in no golf cart either, I feel as though I have exercised. You know what I'm talking about. That thing where you sweat from moving your body and not just because your favorite sushi-chef at Cape Town Fish Market overdid it with the wasabi in the Chef's Parcels.

Interesting.

Anyhoo, here is the first installment of my 200th post with answers to everything you've always wanted to know (mostly about me and blogging today, and nothing about politics and/or fashion, since no one aksed):

Judearoo, who writes some superbly eloquent and beautiful things at Differently Wiredly asked me What for you is the best thing about keeping a blog?

Well, I mostly like it because it means that I write something almost every day, then other people come by and read it, and sometimes even comment, and by doing so let me see what I wrote through a completely different (and not nearly as blue as mine most of the time apparently) set of eyes, and make me see beyond my own meaning. Or at least I get a nice pat on the back from someone I'm not married to or related to somehow.

I write to be read and I love it when someone actually takes the time to read what I've written. Let's face it, otherwise I would be scribbling away in all of those notebooks (into which I only make cryptic notes when I'm either drunk, half-asleep, or watching Rock of Love) I have on every single surface in my house, or into one of the files titled either book, or story, or stuff, or things, or shit.

This is not my diary, this is what I will someday do with my life. (Ooh, what a clever allusion, Ext!)

I don't know if you knew this (sarcasm, I know you all do, since not a day goes by that I don't write something about it), but I actually want to be a published author one day.

Uhhuh. Honest. I do.

Of course for my book I will be making stuff up, and not writing about coffee, wine, farting, the neighbor's pug, and picking my nose.

Never fear. It'll be all about fictitious stuff.

Angelina asked me what was the original intent when you posted your first blog, and when did it change?

The unofficial, completely hush-hush explanation, also known as the truth:
Hmm. I'm not sure my original intent has changed that much, since I set off on this whole blogging thing simply because I thought, "Wow, I should start a blog too. I'm cool. I am." and then I left the blog to sit in its own juices and slowly wither away for about two years until, in my complete boredom, I remembered that I have a blog (while trying to start one and get it registered in the system with the exact same username and password I had set up two years prior), and then I wrote something on there because I was too embarrassed to lie on the couch and watch television while the new maid was vacuuming all over the place. I thought maniacally typing would seem like I had something official-like to do.

The official explanation, that also may contain some nuts and seeds of the truth:
I started out my blog to chronicle my adventures in Mexico, but for a couple of years I never got around to actually posting and then we moved to South Africa. All of a sudden I had nothing to do, which led me to thinking that I should write about all of the adventures I was having in Joburg and maybe throw in some stuff about books, since with unprecedented amounts of time in my hands and no car in the garage I was going through a book a day. And then I stopped leaving the house and just started writing about the small shit that happens. Like my appliances talking to me. Yah.

I never said it was pretty.

Or interesting.

Sohini asked me how do you get so many things to write about?

If I count the times I have effectually written about absolutely nothing you will all be horrified. So I wont.

Personally though, I like to think that being able to pull lines and lines of text out of my ass from thin air is my one talent. That, or linking everything to either farts or nose-picking with absolute lack of subtlety and grace.

DeepBlu asked me is writing a blog worth all the time you put into it?

What else will I ever do with my life? (Brilliant Ext, you worked it in their twice. Total magic, dude!)

Now, I really want to finish watching season 4 of Weeds, and I have some little people to mind and to keep on the straight and narrow (I know. I'm just as flabbergasted as you are.), so I'll answer more of your questions on Tuesday

Thank you so much for your questions and your congratulations, and your comments, and the general love. Royal waves all around. Not that I think of myself as royal, I just like the wave, and the Danish Queen.