Wednesday, March 14, 2007
quandary - un dilemme
Once again I leaped before looking. A person my age should know better. A person should take the time to reflect on the process, to consider the possibilities, to examine motives, to contemplate consequences. Just what it is you think you are about to do. But of course, that’s not me. If that was me, I wouldn’t be living in France.
Me, I leap.
Now, after having made the leap into the blogging world, I realize of course that I haven’t planned what sort of blog I expect this to be. Personal anecdotes or essays? A food blog? An American in France blog? A look at my cute kids blog? Political ranting and raving? An alternative family blog? A was-that-a-mid-life-crises blog? Serious or Silly, Touching or Sarcastic, Humorous or WHAT?
I tend to be a bit timid (yes, even for someone who at 49 displaced his life to a foreign county). I am not really a great cook (although it is true I grew up in a multi-generation restaurant family, and I enjoy cooking and I LOVE to eat). There are more Americans in France than I realized, and they all have a blog (but I think I might be the only 53 year old with twin toddlers, a wife, a boyfriend, and a substantial variety of extended family members in a semi-rural southern region of France i.e. not Paris not Provence.) Speaking of toddlers, there are of course thousands of cute kid blogs (no parenthesis required). I get all anxious when it comes to politics (a subject difficult to avoid in France, even more-so than in the US). That comment after “Americans in France” just about sums up the alternative family bit (possibly a touchy subject for some). And mid-life crises seem so banal (plus I think mine is pretty much over - now it is just a matter of dealing with the aftermath!)
So where is my therapist when I need her? Probably lunching at some trendy Berkeley eater about now. (insert expletive of choice)
In addition, I don’t even know who I expect to read this. Obviously, people who blog expect SOMEBODY to read, even if it is only their old English professor who nurtured the hope that she was tutoring the next Henry Miller. (Actually I have a cute, true, “old high school English teacher” story which I can tell... sometime.) Of course I am too old and too timid to become a Henry Miller type. Not to mention lacking in genius. But if I continue spending inordinate amounts of time on blog-like things that create no income I might yet achieve young Miller’s more dubious reputation for living grace of the kindness of others.
In the mean time, a decision not to make a decision is a nice cop-out and I will just throw up a couple more kid pictures. Hey. Almost everybody loves cute kid pictures. They make us feel all warm and cuddly happy.
By the way, I did ask permission. The boy said that frankly, he didn't give a damn. (roughly translated) And the girl said it was OK as long as she got to choose which shoes she would be wearing. Me. I figure it is OK until they are big enough to sue me. And it is highly unlikely any of their French friends will ever read this blog. That is an understatement.