My words began to haunt me.......

Dear Ether,

To become haunted by oneself through ones own words is disturbing.  I would see the same pattern in my writing that happened in my real life.  I started out with promises of friendship, stories, fashion, beauty—and yes, life as it truly was (the good, the bad and the ugly).

But as time progressed, all I began to do was write about the bad and the ugly.  See Ethers, this is what always happens to me outside the sphere.  I lure people in, friendly with a sense of humor, witty banter about vacuous pop-culture.   I even look the part wearing trendy clothes and a big lip-glossed smile.  But as you get to know me, the facade cracks and all I am is gloss.  A shellac that you brush over worn out wood or cracking paint to make it appear glistening.  But, underneath this varnish, what you have is damage that needs repairing.  And even through my anonymity, my veil, I still couldn’t stop from being who I was.  I could have hit the delete button or not published certain stories—but I did.  In doing so, One of 365 just became another ugly appendage of the human being sitting in front of the screen.  I was afraid of people leaving me.  Becoming bored of me.  I felt self-conscious, like I was moaning about the same woes for months and no matter what advice I was given, couldn’t change.  Being deserted again horrified me.  I couldn’t bear being a failure in yet another forum of my life.  So, I pulled a Houdini of sorts and disappeared.  I didn’t check my e-mail for One of 365, leave comments on posts of fellow bloggers who I love, Twitter became a ghost-town for me.

So, why today?  Is it because it’s the 1st of February?  A new start and a fresh month?  No. A dear friend of mine dedicated a post to me.  I didn’t deserve her kindness, as I didn’t answer a single e-mail from her for 3 weeks.  But my bosom buddy Wildernesschic (who if I could have a smidgen of her passion and kindness…) kept at me.  I couldn’t believe someone was willing to see past being ignored.  And then, with a deep breath, I checked my inbox and comments area.  I was surprised to see that others had asked after me too. I was so grateful.

I don’t think I’ll ever be writing about cotton candy and keg parties.  That’s just not me.  And you know what else isn’t me anymore?  ”One”—at the header of my page.  The story will always be there for all to read—it is my first entry.  But, I’m going to re-write that page as an “about me” instead.  The only thing that still stands true in that piece is my hope in One of 365 to discover something in the journey of blogging.  So far I have already.  And one of the realizations is that a huge part of my writing here in the ether no longer has anything to do with that girl and her night with Mr. X.  As said, it will always remain in One of 365’s archives, but it is no longer who I am.   And, I’ve thought about the title One of 365.  Yes, I will do my hardest to post daily.  But one day out of 365 doesn’t necessarily mean consecutive days.  Fair compromise?

To all you who cared about me and didn’t just “gloss over” this varnished set of numbers….as always….

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

GULP!!!!!

Dear Ether,

It’s really quite strange.  One of 365 is a very small, anonymous blog.  A lovely and loyal group of chapettes leave kind comments, and occasionally I’ll get a few newbies leaving their P.O.V’s.  But, in my working life, my writing is published under my real name.  The articles are very public in well-known titles. Publications always post what I write online after it goes to print.  Standard these days.  I’m not used to having anyone really Tweet my work or write anything that I can’t censor before they leave a comment.  However, with this new situation, it’s my name and my writing standing stark naked for the world to judge.  

Often I get wonderful re-tweets and kind words.  And then I get shitty comments really attacking what I’ve written.  Total cringe.  I’ve recently been asked to start blogging for a national newspaper in addition to writing articles for them.  Well, it’s certainly a change of pace from One of 365.  My voice is 100% different, as are my topics and my word limit.  No swearing, nothing too daring and always having to mind my p’s and q’s.  I also have an editor making sure what I submit is proper.  

It’s so weird living this double life.  I can’t check the back-end of these sites to see hit rates or stats.  I can’t pick images.  I feel so out of control.  I also really want to reply to people who leave their opinions, but I’ve been instructed that this is off limits.  So, yes, silenced from any kind of interaction.  

As a writer…as a PAID writer….the sacrifice you have to make is once you hand over you work, it often no longer belongs to you.  I need the money.  That’s the truth.  So, I have to shut my trap and keep on trucking.  Look, I’m not likening myself to a celebrity, but you know how they say they don’t read what the tabloids say about them?  BOLLOCKS!  I am obsessed with comments about my articles and reading reviews about my writing.  My articles are posted on more than a few blogs and I wish so badly that I could write to bloggers—either thanking them or explaining to them what the truth is.  Hey, everyone has a right to their opinion.  But, the more public my work becomes, the tougher it is to just be quiet.  C’mon.  You guys know me.  Have I ever seemed like the type to be shy?  Exactly.  I think many of you Ethers, if you knew my real identity, and read my work, would laugh at my pieces.  See a whole other side of me.  

Right now I am at the stage in my career where I need to start marketing myself and getting my name out there even MORE.  Oh yeah.  MORE.  That means opening the door to a whole lot of extra opinions.  I don’t have the thickest skin, and maybe this is a good time to grow it.  And if I want to be a winner in this media game, I better start to play harder.  But I gotta tell you, the pressure and anxiety—always trying to please everyone—make the right decisions.  I feel like I’m in a fog.  

Right.  Back to my latest feature.  How very odd indeed.  I wonder if it will be loved or hated?  Or, actually, when I’ll start to not give a shit?  I’m never going to be the next Austen or Roth………..shit, I never thought I’d ever work again as a paid writer.  But I have to say, even the little bit that I add to the recycling bins of the world, well, it can be surreal sometimes. 

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

A "comedic" approach to how I feel. The modern "deer in headlights."

Dear Ether,

Have you ever been afraid to face anything so you do the absolute worst thing possible—-nothing at all?  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I’ve been researching my assignment for about 10 days and have felt disorganized, confused, unmotivated and anxious ever since I began working on it.  I’m not like this. I’m normally very organized, pushy and get things done with precision.  With this job I’ve felt like a deer in headlights.  Stuck just staring at oncoming traffic waiting to be hit by a car.  All I ever talk about is how desperate I am for a career, a future.  I’ve spent the past few months killing myself trying to make contacts, and now that I have something that I should be psyched about, I’m panicking.  Why?  What’s wrong with me?  Why can’t I ever be content?

So, this piece has to be about 2,000 words (it’ll probably be cut down…but that’s what I’m going to present).  My god, many of my past blog entries have been 1,500 words!  Should be a snap, right? I need to write this in a day and a half.  And yet, I feel like I need a lifetime.  And the joke is, this feature is about FASHION. Not Iraq or the plague. A fucking trend in the shoe world.  And yet, I’ve had to take anti-anxiety medication, had to stay in bed with a lavender candle lit and ponder the article in my famous duvet prison uniform.  

Am I this delicate?  How the hell am I going to survive in this world?  I mean, I really seem to be falling apart.  English gent, my family, my psyche.  What’s next? I thought as we got older we got wiser.  I feel just as stupid as I did a decade ago, except I need Botox and a good personal trainer.  God.  Even my blog has turned into a soap box for me to stand on and moan.  What’s happened to me? 

People are probably disgusted by me.  Insulted that I’m even complaining.  There are real problems out there.  But (and I know this seems so self-indulgent), for me, this IS my world and it is overwhelming.  No, I’m not starving or homeless—but can’t we argue that things are relative?  That in our own small circles things are painful?  What may seem stupid to you, may be like a huge phobia for me.  I miss the girl I was who posted 2 weeks ago.  I want her back.

So, tomorrow is D-day.  The start of my article.  God, my heart just started beating out of my chest when I looked at the screen and saw that I wrote that.  Me and this computer, boy.  This ol’ Mac has seen me through every state possible.  If this sucker could talk, I’d have to remove its larynx.   

Off to, fuck knows, think about the inevitable.  What a fool I am.  I’ve wasted so much of my life worrying about stupid things and yet I keep perpetuating this lost time and can’t stop myself.  Like a fucking Greek tragedy—yet not even that epic.  

Hey, if you’re sick of my rants and complaints and miss the old One of 365–check out my sidebar and catch up with some old posts you haven’t read.  That’s my best advice for now.  Again, sorry gang.  Read my “mission statement” for this blog.  I never said it was always going to be pretty.

PS: Happy 1st night of Hanukkah.

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Taking life one step at a time? Or, like the ebb and the flow, eventually the waves have to end up crashing somewhere, right?

Dear Ether,

I have so much I want to say to you.  So much.  I feel like I’m always such a downer.  

I look at other blogs and they are so cheerful and full of hope and happiness.  I try to be like that.  Fun.  Witty.  Chic.  But some nights like tonight, my black cloud comes out.  That’s the breaks with a diary blog where I post daily.

I’m really lonely.  I’m really scared.  And no matter what advice anyone gives me I seem resilient to ever let it penetrate and work to ease my pain.

I have a feature due on Friday.  All I want to do is duvet dive.  

I dream of what I could have been had I felt better about myself when I was younger.  I wonder what my life would be like now if I had left England and English gent behind?  I was only supposed to be there a semester abroad–not 9 years.  Why did I have to be greedy?  Why couldn’t I have had my lovely moment and left it beautiful?

I’m sorry Ethers, but I feel rather light-headed and my stomach is a bit sick.  I just wanted to write something.  Be vital.  

Hey.  Ebb and flow.  Tomorrow could be a sassy post about fashion or another dreary entry about life.  I can’t make you any promises.  I write how I feel on the day or in the moment.  Right now, I don’t feel so good.  

It’s Sunday night at 8:24pm in Los Angeles.  My room is dim.  I’m wearing a hoodie with strawberries on it from Primp, no-name drawstring pajama bottoms in charcoal gray, I’m barefoot, my hair is messy but tied back and in my ears are vintage emerald and diamond studs.  Thought that’d make me seem more human.

Now it is 8:27.

I’m going to go to sleep.  My mind is too busy to concentrate on reading.  

Was this a pointless post?

Why the fuck do I feel so lightheaded?  

Now it is 8:30.

Ebb and flow, right?

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Now THIS makes an impact. Everyone wants to go to The Ritz! Now, let's be real. My humble blog will never be as mighty as this legend, but I'd certainly like it to be as welcoming and for people to want to come inside. Please help me figure out how I can get a diamond slightly as big as the Ritz

Dear Ether, 

I was having a very interesting debate about blogs the other night with a fellow astronaut in the sphere.  He also happens to be a marketing strategist so he thinks in a way that I most certainly do not.  His insight into this world is fascinating.  

I know blogging isn’t about statistics, but c’mon, we all take a gander at them.  Not to be competitive and get book deals with Penguin, but to see if anyone out there is reading us.  After five months my blog stats have remained the same and this has concerned me.  I don’t understand why I’m not getting more hits and why my hit rates aren’t steadily rising (I post every day and I try and choose lovely photos!).  Is my site unsightly?  Are my pictures ugly?  Are my titles/captions bad?  My content rubbish?  I’m worried.  Well, marketing maestro asked me a very interesting question.  What was my bounce rate?  Well, quite high actually.  This, he said, was key.  He said people were clicking on my site and then leaving before they had a chance to read my content. Those who read my work probably liked it. This proved the consistency of my solid number I could count on every day. But most other people never got that far.  Here’s the analogy he thought best:  It’s like having a restaurant. You’ve got great food, an amazing chef and a great interior with lovely staff.  Hey, even the toilets are nice with Molton Brown hand soap.  But, the awning is rubbish, the sign is torn, you haven’t swept the sidewalk and your curb appeal is just awful.  No one is going to walk in and open the door to see the innards because they think the outside is a reflection of the inside.  

But is this so?  Is that what’s going on?  Or, is the market simply too saturated with blogs? OR people can’t be asked to read anything longer than a blurb or two and my posts are too lengthy so when they see my post they find it too daunting? All these questions and more are what make up my blog post today.  For those of you who’ve “stepped into my restaurant,” who’ve actually made it this far into my content, I’d love your advice.  I want more people to read my writing and readership to grow, but something is wrong and I can’t put my finger on it.  So, today I’m asking for suggestions.   Think of it as me doing a bit of blog market research.  I’m going to put being humble aside for a moment.  I think my content is really decent.  But again, people aren’t getting that far.  

I am not looking for a pat on the back.  PLEASE.  Don’t toot my horn or try to be nice.  Honesty is what I’m looking for.  When I set out to write One of 365 I wanted it to be read by a lot of people so I could connect with the world and grow.  I don’t want to be another blog statistic.  I could really use your advice.  Hey, if you think I’m wrong and think my content is shit, fuck it—let me know.  Speak your mind.  I want my restaurant to flourish and you guys are the people I want to come in and enjoy a meal with.

I also think this will be an interesting case study for other bloggers out there to think about how this might aid you as well if you have the same concerns.  

On that note……I appreciate your feedback and wait in haste for thoughts.  My ripped awning is waiting to be fixed.  

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365