My seven-year-old son could rival Louis Walsh with his obsession with the rule book.
Every one of his made-up games requires a minimum of 10 minutes pre-play explanation of ‘the rules’ before play can commence. Anyone who dares to contravene these rules is immediately red-carded or he strops off protesting about how unfair it all is, while we attempt not to laugh at him.
If I chose to analyse this fact in a rational manner I could explain it as a juvenile attempt to form the necessary social constructs that he will build the rest of his life upon. But of course I’m not that good a parent, and I’m not that mature… what generally happens is that we *gently* try to explain that it’s sometimes ok to moderate or even break the rules, at which point his head starts spinning and we all give up and turn on the telly.
Last night, I had a post-#cbb7 epiphany (final 3, sov, sisqo, vinnie). I realised that my son isn’t only my mirror image in looks (poor boy). I realised that his anally retentive predilection for order and control is a direct reflection of my own, and I realised that I didn’t like my blog very much.
I started the blog in July ’09 and to date I’ve posted 11 times. The (main) problem is my self-imposed rules about what it should (and shouldn’t) be. Categorically this was to be a reflection of my professional self, the person who I keep locked away from every other version of me – she even has her own Twitter account. Battleplan’s Blog was to be a serious attempt to promote myself, but it has never really sat well with me and I just couldn’t work out why.
Earlier this week, whilst having those of those black days where you question your ability to do anything at all , I read a tweet from @porridgebrain about a ‘Big Idea’. That idea quickly became ‘Judith’s Room’, an online creative writing community for women who write or want to write and… I joined it, and I’m so pleased that I did. Suddenly Twitter assimilated into a sensible form for me, one where sleb stalking took second place to meeting and talking to real, interesting people (even if it was only about what’s on TV). I have lists. I have followers who aren’t porn bots. I have been having a really great time!
As I mulled over my epiphany and my favourite ever Twitter day I finally understood that my rules were there to be broken, that it’s ok to write about whatever I want to write about and that it’s my blog and I can waffle if I want to.
So, there we have it – an open ending…
I may have to go and wake up my son…