11 July 2010
Four hours, 46 minutes and 36 seconds.
Late Friday night, someone from Los Angeles took nearly five hours out of their life to read the story of mine.
I hope it was Steven Spielberg.
Thanks to my new friend at sitemeter.com, I am able to follow the up-to-the-second traffic on my website and see who’s out there.
I’ve never tried heroin, but I can’t imagine it being any more addictive than that friggin website.
Friday night’s display absolutely blew me away.
Thankfully it has become somewhat of a regular occurrence for somebody new to check out a handful of my old blogs.
Good thing I don’t know who you are or you would have a new BFF.
For those of you who have never been unemployed, I don’t really expect you to truly understand the real feeling of being kicked in the gut.
I certainly didn’t understand it when I was told nearly twenty months ago that my services were no longer needed.
I certainly didn’t understand it nine months later when my contract ran out and I was no longer being paid to stay at home.
I certainly didn’t understand it week-after-week, month-after-month when all my “great contacts” got me nowhere.
But let me tell you, as someone who is beyond fortunate in life but beyond nowhere in my career, I understand it now.
I am SO ready for any piece of good news, even if I have to make it up.
Thankfully I have found a lot of things to keep me busy and for the most part keep me happy.
Working out, joining a band, coaching my kids, using expired coupons at the supermarket.
All of those things bring a sincere joy to my world, but a true celebration? Not really.
The closest that I have to come to serenity now is what you are reading.
The fact that hundreds of people go out of their way, every day, to read the voices in my head is something that brings a big ole smile to my face.
Watching as this unknown person from my former hometown read blog-after-blog on Friday night, committing five hours of their life to reading about mine, made me feel absolutely incredible.
As sweet (or pathetic) as this may sound, at one point Friday night I remember blurting out, “I am a blogger.”
And proud of it.
I realize blogging may not help pay for the kids’ college education.
And it may not do much for the car payment either.
But it does help me get out of the bed in the morning or in most cases gets me to bed way after my bed time.
In all of my years of working in the TV world, past tense, I never had the desire or the ego to put my face on camera.
I loved working behind-the-scenes, coming up with some creative idea so that somebody else better looking than me could deliver it.
Writing this blog has been the closest thing to coming out that I have ever experienced.
When it was truly an anonymous blog, I felt incredibly comfortable saying whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
I had no hesitation in talking about my good days AND my bad days.
I had no hesitation in talking about anything.
Especially when I heard from so many people around the world who have truly connected with my story and inspired me to keep going.
But now that there are a group of people who know who I am, including a growing list of friends in-and-out of my former profession, that is a little more challenging.
After all, I don’t want to hurt my reputation.
I’ve got my lawyer friend reminding me that, “maybe you shouldn’t say that.”
I’ve got a TV friend saying, “you never know who is going to read this in the future.”
I’ve got my daughter telling me, “I hope LeBron doesn’t read that blog.”
And deep down, they are all right, I suppose.
But the bottom line for me is after 43 plus years of life, I have finally connected with something that makes me happy.
Not as happy as using those expired coupons, but happy.
When one of my closest friends forwarded my LeBron blog to another friend who posted on his Facebook page, I nearly fainted.
And not in a good way.
What if somebody finds out that I think LeBron is a bum.
Wait a minute, WHAT IF somebody new reads my blog.
That would be cool.