So at the weekend I went to Mumsnet Blogfest. I am planning to write about this at some point, but for now, let’s just say I am having a slight problem with the photography.
This is just one reason why I am failing at blogging (and life, but I wrote about that here).
No, I am not a photographer. I am not one of those people who just casually walks around, SLR (is that what it’s called? You know what I mean, the big camera thingys that used to be the ridiculed preserve of Japanese tourists on pan-European coach tours, but which since the advent of the Internets have suddenly become the hipster accessory du jour) in hand, snapping at random objects in an artful manner.
I have also failed to take lessons from Buzzfeed, which is why I have not numbered this post, despite it being headlined “ten things…” It probably won’t even BE ten things. Then again, Buzzfeed is not to be trusted, having recently posted something about the “greatness” of Love Actually, which is a film that I used to sort of like but could never quite work out why I felt slightly uncomfortable about it, until I read this piece of brilliance and realised why I was creeped out by the Keira Knightley storyline that was supposed to be sweet, but was basically a story of stalking and harassment dressed up in a friendly Andrew Lincoln-from-Teachers shape; and the storyline about Colin Firth getting a bit obsessed with someone who couldn’t speak a word of English, which says volumes about the fact that women in our society are considered far more attractive when they don’t talk.
Then there is the fact that I have no idea what is meant by such technical jargon as “SEO,” “nofollow links” (I don’t think I want one of those. They sound bad), and it took me about two years to work out how to resize a photo so that the occasional snapshot that does make it onto the blog-usually a view of the back of someone’s head-isn’t ridiculously tiny.
Oh, and I’m not all about the positivity beloved of so many parent bloggers. Have you read any of my posts recently?
Oh no, you haven’t because you haven’t a clue who I am. There was me, at Blogfest, running up to people and telling them I recognised them from Twitter, or, more frequently, just looking at them from afar with a sort of creepy admiration, wondering how they managed to have so many “blogger friends” when I was hanging around wondering if it might be time to give up and go and have a conversation with my own reflection in the mirror, and ABSOLUTELY NO ONE knew who I was. Not. A. Single. One. After all, I don’t have any photographs of myself on the blog, so how would they know? Deduce from the appearance of Piglet that I look vaguely like him and therefore must be his kin?
I’m not very good at the, er, self-promotion.
You won’t find me on Pinterest, because I don’t have any decent photos on the blog. You won’t find me on LinkedIn, because isn’t that something boring for business people? You won’t find me on Periscope, because I don’t know what that is, and it sounds like it might be submarine-related. On a completely unrelated note, the last time I went on a submarine (in 1994, which sounds like a long time ago, but bear in mind that even back then in Ye Olden Nineties, women did have the vote and some of them even had jobs) I asked what I thought was a pertinent question about why women were not allowed to work on submarines, and was told that the answer was because we would all synchronise our periods and have PMT at the same time, and that if that was to happen, with all the nuclear warheads on board, the only logical outcome would be that we would be a danger to national security, international stability, and indeed the continued existence of the entire human race. BECAUSE NO MAN EVER STARTED A WAR EVER. All those pesky women, going around causing international incidents. I mean, look at Boudicca!
That is why I don’t like the sound of this Periscope.
So yes, ladies and gentlemen (mostly ladies. I don’t think any men read this blog, although I will be happy to be proved wrong) I am a Bad Blogger. I don’t even post pictures of my Mum-style Breton tops or the paleo diet kale and courgettini superfood smoothies I drink every day. Forgive me, O blogging brethren.