Hi. Here I am.
See, I find myself in a dilemma such as our beloved W4I did a while ago, before she found a new direction as the wonderfully entertaining and wise Aunty Lizzy. For I also doubt there'll be any interesting news for the foreseeable and as such, this blog risks becoming a bleak wasteland with only the occasional plastic bag* blowing through on the burning wind, on its way to someplace better.
I have therefore come up with some ideas to keep the desertification process at bay. Please feel free to vote for your preference, if you have one.
1. I could post drawings. This could get quite boring quite quickly though. Oooh, maybe I could draw people on public transport and the JB could make up stories about them. (This is a creepy talent of his.)
2. I could just be really trivial, filling the internet with meaningless drivel about the cat. I feel this goal is quite within my reach.
3. I could be very sporadic. In this vision of my blog, the few posts I'd make would be Really Good and Worth The Wait. [Downside: High potential not to work. Updates might never happen, as I am paralysed with great expectations of self, sitting around in velvet jacket, smoking and waiting for muse to smile, etc.]
4. I could tell a few bizarro but true stories from my teenage years and so on. I could tell you all about the time I spent a day in a friend's school, having donned their uniform, and everything, for instance. Essentially I broke into another school, masquerading as one of its students. All true.
I think that's all I have in the way of suggestions. If you have one, feel free to make it.
Next week I have rather a scary interview, for a job working with hospitalised teenagers. I have no idea why I applied. Why did I? OH WHY. The interview will include a presentation (gulp) of my entirely spurious and untested theories about art in hospital settings, for young people. Teenagers, I mean! We already know those are very dangerous. And if that wasn't enough, which it clearly is, the letter also makes chilling mention of an hour and a half workshop with the mentor, a Drama Type, most alarmingly. I fervently hope he doesn't ask me to pretend I am a tree.
Are any of you lovely readers Drama Types? It's not that I wouldn't like to be, I would. It's just, well, as I understand it, within all of us lurks the Barrier of Embarrassability. To be a drama type you must break with scalding cheeks through this barrier to get to the other side, where you can frolic, sing, and pretend to be trees at the drop of a hat, without even blushing.
I am barrier intactus, folks. I am all walled up, like a good Northern European.
What to do? Can I fake it, I ask you?
Advice welcome, per usual.
*[This is an automatically generated
Typepad-recommended link. "Plastic bag"? Well, I think that deserves a
bit of research, in case anyone is in doubt of what it is. Similarly
helpful, links to "teenagers" and "Northern European". Thanks, Typepad! We're all much better informed now. Mysteriously, it didn't offer any link for desertification. Perplexing.]