The blog world is cyclical.
Unless you count those blogs that drop off sharply. Not because of quality, but from lack of posts. Sometimes, it’s not sustainable. Or we forget the password. Either way, the blog floats along in the ether, like a dead satellite.
Most often, we cycle toward and then away from blogs and blog friends, and when the cycle brings us back close, it’s as if no time had elapsed at all.
Joey writes the blog Big Teeth & Clouds, and she’s here today talking about quitters.
Joey recently ended a blog drought with a flurry of posts. Like, nearly A to Z Challenge volume of posts. Her blog is a collection of observations about the world, which, fortunately, leaves lots of area to explore.
Please give her a warm CD welcome, and be sure to check out Big Teeth & Clouds.
Winners Never Quit, We Just Finish Stuff Abruptly
A Guest Post by Joey Lynn Resciniti, Big Teeth & Clouds
I had fallen and was having a moment’s difficulty getting back up when I decided to quit my last job.
I’d been babysitting a 3-year-old boy in what qualifies as a mansion in my part of the world. The little boy and I were headed to the house’s vast wrap around porch to have our lunch outside. He *helpfully* opened the front door and swung it with all his might. As the stately wood door careened unchecked toward the very fancy custom stone wall of the entry way, I made a split-second decision to try and prevent the imminent and possibly destructive collision of these two gorgeous castle parts.
As we say in Pittsburgh: that floor was slippy. I was wearing socks.
In an instant, I was flat out. Every part of my body hit the hardwood floor at the same moment. Giant black circles clouded my vision. My baked sweet potato lunch ricocheted off a wall. The little boy’s PB&J splatted on the floor beside me.
I was down and conscious of the sensation that I needed a minute.
Fortunately, the boy’s dad was in the house. He yelled, “is everything okay?” moments after what must have been the sound of my dignity imploding.
“No,” I answered. I was still on the floor when the dad arrived on the scene. By now, I was able to writhe in pain a bit, but I still hadn’t achieved a vertical position.
“Were you holding my son when you fell?” the dad asked.
“No,” I said.
I was permitted to go home early that day, but only after sitting with the little boy for what seemed like a half hour as the dad prepared himself to be without a baby sitter. I carried my shoes as I walked back to my normal-sized home. My body hurt too much to bend down and put them on my feet.
I tendered my immediate resignation later that afternoon.
Though it was the most recent, that wasn’t the first job I quit. When I was in college I took a sales job at TruGreen Chemlawn. That lasted only two weeks. A few years back, I had to tell the school district not to bother calling me when they needed a paraprofessional substitute.
The truth is, I like quitting. Take this job and shove it, is such a glorious thing to be able to say. But to put it in a more socially acceptable light, I like to finish things. Crossing an item off of a list satisfies some compulsion of mine. Sometimes I’ll write something I’ve already done on a list just so I can cross it off.
People read my blog back then
Whether you call it “quitting” or “finishing,” I think my propensity for achieving the end helped me when I realized I had to shut down my blog back in 2011. There was a host of reasons (shameless plug: you can read a fictionalized account of what went on in my book to be released this summer), but it was tough to pull the plug. People actually read my blog back then.
There was nothing else for me to quit at the time. And so, quitting the blog filled that sort of rebel urge for me to walk away. And it wasn’t just the blog. I quit writing entirely. For the first time in my 30 plus years of life, I didn’t even keep a personal diary. I gave up trying to get published.
By 2014, I missed writing. I thought I could restart the blog, transition away from personal stories. I could stay safe on the Internet and have a creative outlet. I could have my cake and eat it too. I ended up posting a lot of recipes (one was for cake) and sad food photography.
It didn’t work. I can hold my own as a home chef, but where do these food bloggers come up with so many recipes? It’s amazing. What’s worse than the constant search for bloggable food is my husband. He took to mocking my pre-dinner photography routine.
“Are you going to eat that or just take its picture?” he’d ask.
Ha! I took its picture and it looked disgusting! That showed him.
Now as I un-quit my blog yet again, there will be no more recipes. There will be limited stories about my middle school aged daughter (her schoolmates know how to use Google now). There will be irony and sarcasm. There will be things that I find funny and occasionally, things that make me mad.
I hope you’ll come by and read some of it. And when the stories have all been told, you can be sure, I’ll know when to quit.