It’s quite late here as I write this so I’m not feeling particularly creative about today’s Blogging 101 task. I was going to try to subtly weave the suggested questions into a grand masterpiece of blogging glory, but instead I’ll just bluntly ask:
Who is my dream reader?
Truthfully? Myself, in another’s body.
Here’s the thing: There are 7 billion-odd people on this planet right now. It is pure folly to believe we’re all each special, unique little flowers, completely different to everybody else out there. It’s just not possible – and not healthy. For sure, nobody else has my exact DNA or exact system of neuronal connections. Nobody has my exact tone of voice in combination with my exact differing leg length and exact shade of blue in their eyes.
But there are plenty of other people out there that are similar enough to “get” me. Plenty who will go “Oh, SNAP!” when I describe how I go into freeze mode when I have too much to do or when my perfectionism sabotages all my efforts at creating order from the chaos. Plenty who make the same parenting choices as me when their little ones throw them a curve ball or make the same financial choices when things are tight but that brownie and chai craving just won’t quit. Plenty who can totally relate when I sit up well past any logical bedtime mindlessly playing puzzle games with my eyes practically falling out of my head despite knowing full well how ridiculous I’m being.
So I guess my dream reader, the sort of person I’d most like to connect to with this blog, is one of the many, many kinda-like-Meg people out there whose ideas and feelings happen to resonate with what I’m going through right now. Preferably someone who might feel like a bit of a lonely weirdo failure adrift in a sea of people who seem to have their shit together (Spoiler: they don’t!). Someone whose day will be brightened by knowing they are not alone.
Come be a weirdo failure with me instead, because I totally and utterly “get” you.