Jacqui's Room Topics You Missed Because You Don't Live in My Head

I had so many things to tell you while I was in Argentina. Turns out I CAN go ten days with no internet, no cell phone, no email, and no day care. What I CANNOT do is stop thinking of things about which to write. But, one of my new year's resolutions is to live in the present, so I'm not going to try to recapture the inspiration. Here's what you missed:

1. If You're Gonna Have Family Drama, There Might As Well Be Actual Wild Monkeys Around

2. The Power of Words: A lengthy discussion of how we trick ourselves into thinking the word we use for a thing is somehow infused with the essence of that thing so that someone who does not speak our language at all should somehow understand anyway if we just say the word loudly and expressively enough. Punctuated by examples from Tinkerbell and others and involving a joke about monkey bars.

3. Dear Guaraní People, So Sorry Your New Year's Day Purifying Dip in the Iguazú Falls** Was Ruined By the Shrieks of My Son And If You Find the Piece of My Husband's Chin That He Bit Off, That's Okay, You Can Keep It.

4. Dulce de Leche, Nectar of the Gods. Includes references to Proust and the parallels between his experience with the madeleines and my tasting this caramel-like goodness for the first time since childhood. Also: elaborate fantasy involving dulce de leche crepes.

5. Why You Can Never Check Anything Off Your Parental To Do List/The Un-Power of Words. In which I have to explain the concept of death to Destructo for the fourth time in two months because he has heard "going to find Grandpa's dada's grave" as "going to find Grandpa's dada and bring him home with us." And other deep thoughts on family history, childhood, the random migration of people and families, and Brooklyn.

And, my favorite,

6. What Will Happen If Immigration Thinks You Are Accidentally Smuggling Diseased Horse Poop Into the U.S.

** At least, that's what I was told was going on; for all I know they were tourists from Duluth.

Spam me any time

In which I take what I can get.

This arrived in my inbox this week:

Dear jacqui,

I have been to your blog and loved it!

Having embraced the light of your essence that is your online garden of the self , i felt compelled to write and compliment you on a job well done. You have created a path of light that expresses the flowering within. I enjoyed learning who you are and what you do. The heart of your destiny and soul of your existence are inspiring. Know that your life and work are respected and celebrated. By sharing your story , gifts and abilities you enrich and enlighten those blessed to view your pages. You are an authentic and original person of character whose refreshing presence motivates and enchants. Thank you for being you. I wish you a lifes journey where peace and harmony reign supreme.

Now that's the kind of letter people should be sending me. Sure, I know he's probably never seen my blog and really wants me to wire money to his account in Nigeria. But, the heart of my destiny and the soul of my existence are inspiring? Sweet.

I had forgotten, until I got this letter, about waving to honkers. In high school, whenever someone honked at me, I'd pretend it was not because I had cut him off or because my left headlight was out, but because I was so irresistibly fabulous. I'd turn and flash a movie star smile, or wave and blow a kiss, mouthing "thank you." Puts you in a lot better mood than the alternative.

So I'm taking the words to heart. I AM an authentic and original person of character whose refreshing presence motivates and enchants.

Oh, and thank you for honking. You look great too.

The Honest Scrap

Rena was kind of enough to nominate Jacqui's Room for the Honest Scrap, an award for telling it like it is. Which I fear is a euphemism for "unedited oversharing," but we take our kudos where we can get them around here.

This time, I did not spend all night attempting to trace the origins of the award. But that is only because I spent all night trying to download a printer driver. We will have to trust that the Honest Scrap award did not originate somewhere terrible.

I am to post 10 honest things about myself and then pass the award on to seven other blogs who tell it like it is. This is hard; I mean, you already know my house is in chaos and I'm a big dork. But I'll try.

10. Sometimes I make inappropriate jokes to myself and laugh out loud. I'm doing it right now. Imagine all the horrible things I could write on this list. Heh heh.

9. I listen to loud music that is not appropriate to share here. Sometimes I listen to my iPod and giggle at the vast space between how I look and how it sounds in my head.

8. It is possible I have a small addiction to the internet.

7. Someday I really, really, really, want to direct another play.

6. When my sister and I get going, I think we're the funniest people on earth.

5. I have never broken a single bone in my body.

4. I am so superstitious that I almost didn't write #5 and I will have to knock on wood every time I read it.

3. Which I will do a million times, because I obsessively read my own blog posts before I publish them.
2. I have a monster ego. Seriously. Gigantic. But somehow I'm also always convinced everyone hates me.

1. I don't deserve this award. I am actually a great liar. It's true. Don't tell.

And to pass it on. I can't think of seven. I always try to pick blogs I think you may not have seen, so I'm limited, but check out:

Holy Guacamole, where T writes my secret fears,
Colorado Writer, who writes the ups and downs of writing without hiding anything, and
Resident Alien, who is not afraid to explore and share her thoughts on a variety of topics.

How to Use Jacqui's Room

I'm still new enough to this bloggy business to be amazed when someone besides my mother visits Jacqui's Room. It charms me to no end when people I wouldn't expect* tell me they've been here. "You should comment!" I tell them.

Then the other day, I was talking with a friend and I mentioned Jacqui's Room. "You should come by," I told her.

"Oh, I've never been to a blog," she demurred. "I wouldn't know what to do."

I remember feeling like that. I remember someone inviting me to join a group blog, with a bunch of well-established bloggers. I started poking around others' blogs, never staying for more than three minutes because I was sure they could see me. I was positive everyone online knew each other and if I commented, the response would be, "Who is that?! Get out!" or that I would break some invisible blog rule, some unspoken (or spoken before I got there) online social code, and I would look like a major fool and they would all be able to see through my secret identity and know just who I was and they would laugh and laugh.

Basically, I thought the internet was like middle school.

Turns out, it's not. I can't SEE you, beyond your IP address, and trust me, it means nothing to me. I don't know both most of the people whose comments you see, beyond the fact that they visit here and leave comments and I go and check out what they have to say sometimes. And, nobody here is going to laugh if you comment; I'm so happy whenever anyone does all I can do is beam thanks. So it IS kind of like middle school, I guess, only you found the kind of dorky, secretly coolest crowd.

I told my friend all this and she didn't believe me. So I thought I should make it easy for her. Thus, I bring you:

The Jacqui's Room Manual: Instructions For Daily Use

1. Type "www.jacquirobbins.blogspot.com" into the little rectangle at the top of your screen.

2. Read today's post. Laugh, ponder, or weep salty tears of exhilaration, as appropriate.

3. Decide to throw me a bone respond. Click on "Post a Comment" at the end of the post. A new window will open up. Do not be afraid. Peruse the hilarity others have left. Don't be intimidated. Type your comment into the big box. Might I suggest, "Dang, woman! You are the funniest person ever!" or "Thank you, thank you, for changing my life so drastically for the better with this simple idea!" Other readers also seem to enjoy telling me what foodstuffs they spat out upon reading my work. When it doubt, you can always say, "I wuz here."

4. At this point, the computer will ask you to type some letters as you see them. This is to make sure you are not a robot. If you ARE a robot, email me and we'll arrange something.

5. Now it gets tricky. Remain calm. The directions ask you to "Choose an identity." If you aren't sure, click on "Anonymous." That way you can be, well, anonymous. If you want me to know it's you, sign your comment (back up in the box) as in, "Holy cow! I can't stop laughing! Love, Your old piano teacher."

6. You can preview your comment by clicking "Preview." Or you can click "Publish." Go ahead. Take a deep breath and do it. Click!

7. Oh my God!!! Your comment didn't appear!!! Where did it go?! Do not panic. I must approve all comments before they appear. If yours doesn't have bad words in it, or try to sell me something, it will undoubtedly pass and should be up soon, as I check for comments several times each minute throughout the day.

8. Sit back and say goodbye to your productivity. Then email everyone you know and tell them what fun you had in Jacqui's Room. I mean it. Go tell them.


* the dad of my best friend from high school, my son's day care teacher , my cousin -- hi guys!

Bloggy Business

In which I feel the bloggy love and reveal what a weirdo I truly am.

Look at this! -->
I won an award. It's from the very sweet Christy, whom I enjoy, and not only because she tells me how funny I am all the time. I like best her pieces on seeing through the eyes of a child. I am to proudly display my new blog bling and to drop it on other blogs that I love.

But then I thought: Where did this award start? I mean, what if it was started by something I hate, like the guy at WeLoveToShootKittens.blogspot.com? I must find out before I go giving a kitten-hating award to my bloggy friends!*

So I set off searching. I started back at Christy's and traced the I Love Your Blog Award back through some great kidlit blogs, through horror writers, primitive artists, a collage and mixed-media crowd, all over the US and Canada, Germany, Switzerland, and the Netherlands.

All of this made me think: Holy cow, there are a lot of blogs out there. And then: Why am I blogging when there are a million other people doing it?!

And then I thought how great blogging is for Writing, the noun. I mean, think how much writing is going on every day on blogs. Not that all of it is great, or even entertaining, but at least it's happening. And before the blogosphere, I'll bet some of these people just didn't write. And now they do.

Feeling the bloggy love, I tracked on. I got bogged down with a group of inter-awarding card-crafters and escaped eventually to the blogs of knitters, who skipped to ranchers, horse-lovers, and a blog for the aging equestrian, which lead me to ... nowhere. I got to the Horseshoeing Housewife and I could go. no. further.

I pouted. And then I thought: Hmm. Maybe I should have just Googled "I Love Your Blog Award Creator" or something. Duh. So I did. And I got here (love his first paragraph), and stopped again.

And then The Mighty Thor started watching over my shoulder. And then he mocked me. I was dazed and my face had turned blue, but the small part of me where the skin wasn't fused to my laptop knew I deserved it. So I gave up. Because I realized the only possible end to all of this tracking was this.

So thank you, Christy, and the rest of you, go see Thorp's blog, because I really do love it, and because it will lead the next person tracking the award to a whole new genre. I have to go take out my eyeballs and wash them in lye.

* Sadly, this is how my mind really works.

How to Start a Blog

Spend too much time at your keyboard not writing. Worry that someday they will discover the rays emanating from the bottom of your lap top are toxic. Read other people's blogs. Join JacketFlap. Decide all the other writers in the world know each other. Feel jealous. Realize you were not cool in high school and you will never be cool amongst people who write about high school either.

Start ten blogs. Delete them all. Worry that Blogger staff are laughing at you.

Create a livejournal account. Leave it inactive when you are unable to figure out how to view your own profile. Realize someday your children will be as frustrated with you about technology as you are by the fact that your father still calls a remote control a "clicker."

Find yourself blogging in your head. Find yourself hilarious.

Begin.

Hear the baby crying.

Delete the blog.

Begin again a different day.

Wonder just who (besides your mother) you expect to read this blog. Delete the blog again.

Begin again months later. Think it looks dumb to only have a few posts. Realize if you would stop deleting your blog you'd have more than a few posts.

Have a revelation while in the shower about exactly what you want the blog to be: a kind of online version of the meeting rug in your classroom. And with that, you know exactly what kind of blog you want to have, and what you want to say.

Vow to try it for six months and see how it goes.

Begin.