Lately I feel like I can’t write anything funny…I can only say it. It has to be in the moment. And in voices. I am a little obsessed with silly voices and accents. I think it’s because I think my own voice is nasally and annoying and when I hear recordings of it, I think that it isn’t me. It’s someone who looks and sounds like a bird or something.
I think thoughts that make me giggle, and I make witty jokes when I am with others. And then I sit down and think about those silly things…and I can’t think of a way to explain it that makes it as funny as it actually was. This is the challenge of writing, I suppose. Making things magically transform into a story, in a way that flows and you feel like you’re there, looking in, and laughing at the same time as everyone else. This, I struggle with lately.
I can tell you all about my stupid day-to-day life. No one wants to hear about that, trust me. Talking about how the whole family went down to the Home Depot after picking up Lovely #2 from school and picked out paints swatches because we just realized that we hate the wall color of our office. Or I could tell you about how I didn’t want to get out of bed and make Lovely #1 a lunch before she left (because I’m lazy) and how I had to drop it at her school later in the morning. Much more work than just getting up and making it. Lazy mama.
Or I could tell you about how Lovely #2 likes to say dammit. She gets it from me, I suppose. She makes up for it by being way too darn cute. Dammit, I sound like every other mom blog out there. And this isn’t even a mom blog! Fuck.