A Letter to a Realistic Fictional Audience

Dear Dream Reader,

I’m guessing you’re here because you saw another post of mine about Poop Throwing or Toddler Tea-Bagging. I hope that you are enjoying those, really I do. Also, I promise to keep trying to get better at this. Writing has never been my strong suit, and it’s the school subject that I still struggle with the most. Believe me when I say that I am trying. Furthermore, I promise to keep finding myself in silly situations.

I’m guessing that another reason that you are here is because you’re actively avoiding something. For me, it’s usually writing a report at work or laundry. Here’s another trick: go grab a cup of coffee, a soda, or a beer (pick your pleasure) because then, long after your eyeballs have scanned this text, you’ll still have a beverage to finish before you have to get up and write that report or fold those clothes. Believe me, I’m a professional-level procrastinator.

I’m thinking that you find my posts funny because you are a parent and can relate. Or, because you aren’t a parent and I am just providing more justification to your choice (not that it needs justified). One of my favorite blogs, and an inspiration for this one, is written by my friend’s son-in-law about his parenting adventures. My kids are the best thing that ever happened to me, but they are also the cause of every gray hair on my head. There is not enough warning in the world to prepare you what the true adventure of parenting is.

I’m hoping that you do, in fact, find me funny. Sometimes I am caught in really tough circumstances, but my coping mechanism is to laugh at the tough stuff. I’ve learned to keep a lot of that laughing internal, because social norms just don’t allow for one to burst into laughter while, say, standing in line at the grocery store. The same goes for crying, but I must admit that it is far harder to hold back the tears.

The purpose of this blog is to relate to someone. Whether it be a parent, someone who works with the mentally ill, someone with a neurological disorder, or someone who is just a plain ol’ smartass like myself. I think it is important for everyone to feel like they can relate to someone. Otherwise, the world feels like a mighty lonely place.

If this is the first post of mine you are reading, please do me a favor and look at another one or two. This does not feel like my strongest piece. If you are already one of the 11 (double-digits, baby) that are following me, please don’t stop because of this. In fact, invite your friends to follow me too. That’ll put the pressure on me to deliver something brilliant. For now, thanks for making it this far.

Love, Me

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