To blog or not to blog?

So I have been really bad at blogging lately. By lately, I mean the past four months. It's funny because I intended to write at least four times a week in 2016, hoping to have a minimum of 150 posts by the end of the year. I'm pretty sure that will not happen now.

Sure, I could spout some excuse. I've been busy with work. I've been trying to corral two cats, one of whom doesn't understand how litter boxes work. I've been planning my wedding. See, you guys? I am just so, so stretched for time that I hardly have time to sit down and watch Hulu, much less write an entertaining and/or worthwhile blog post.

I could say that, but it's just not true. I did get promoted at work this year, which has taken quite a bit of my time. That doesn't mean I haven't had free time. I have. I'm writing this after my workday has ended, so it's fair to say I can find the time. I think it's more that I don't have the inspiration I used to have. Because it's my job to write something every day, it can be difficult to continue writing when I get home and put on my stretchy pants and lounge in front of the TV with a cup of black tea and a ham, cheese and spicy mustard sandwich. (Perhaps that was too much detail, but you definitely have an idea of what I do in my free time now. The sandwich is on honey wheat bread, if you were wondering.)

In theory, I should have quite a bit of material to write about. A gorilla was just shot at the Cincinatti Zoo, Donald Trump is going to be the Republican nominee in the presidential race and Gideon and I have just started watching Game of Thrones.

This is what I found when I googled "Donald Trump Game of Thrones gorilla." And now it's probably going to be the image that shows up when I share this on social media, so that's thoroughly embarrassing.

But wait, there's more! Here's an exhaustive list of things I could write about if I stopped being so damn lazy all the time:

• Transgender people and bathrooms
• Taylor Swift and Calvin Harris (they allegedly broke up...NEWSBREAKING!)
• The cats Gideon and I constantly clean up after 
• How summertime brings out spiders and, in turn, the worst in me
• How summertime brings out higher temperatures and, in turn, the worst in me
• How I hate summer
• What our cats would be like if they were Game of Thrones characters
• Wedding planning
• What it's like to be a journalist
• What Gideon is like when he gets his wisdom teeth removed
• How much it sucks when you have an itch on your back that you can't reach and no one's home to reach it for you so you try to scratch it against the wall but end up completely missing it and somehow bruising your left shoulder blade (again, perhaps too specific)
• Wedding dress shopping
• The art of farting silently when you're at a public event and it would be inappropriate to just let it rip (I am very experienced in this)

There is so much I could write about. The options are endless. And yet here I am, writing about these posts instead of writing the posts themselves. I am a terrible blogger.

Update: I wrote this earlier this week and just remember to publish and share it. So I can always get worse!

New perspective

For those of you who don't know, I write a weekly column for the paper where I work. I've written about pretty serious topics in the past - domestic violence, politics, Tom Cotton's creepy money-hungry eyes, etc. - but sometimes I absolutely phone it in.

Last week, I did just that. I wrote this column about how I hate summertime because it's so hot and gross and miserable. In the column, I explained that I grew up in Texas where you can boil an egg on the sidewalk in July. Being in Eureka Springs, I wrote, is at least more pleasant than that.

I considered the column to be pretty innocuous. I thought maybe one or two people would like it on our Facebook page, knowing most readers would likely skip right over it. That was cool with me; I don't always want a response to my writing.

Imagine my surprise when I received a letter Monday morning about the column. The letter touched me deeply, and I think it would be a disservice not to share it. Of course I'll change the names in it - I am not a monster. (Most of the time)

Dear Samantha,

It seems we come to Arkansas from contrasting weather conditions. You from Texas to find cooler weather and my wife Julie and I from Minnesota in search of warmer weather. Julie's outlook was I can be negative and have a bad day or positive and have a good day and enjoy the warmth of summer. In spite of her cancer, she never complained. 

We enjoyed 10 years in Arkansas and sometimes didn't like the heat and wind but I'd give anything today to walk hand in hand down a hot, windy Arkansas street with Julie. You see, Jesus called her home last October 10th. She now lives in a perfect world.

I enjoy your column and look forward to it each week. Keep up the good work. I don't mean for this to be critical, just saying we should appreciate each day.

Have a good day, Sam.

Respectfully,
Firstname Lastname

I cried so much when I read that letter. I cried just now typing it up. I'm crying writing about all the crying.

We're going through a transitional period at my work right now, and I've just been promoted. I went to work Monday feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything I had to do this week. I didn't realize it, but I am in complete control of that feeling.

Like the man wrote in that letter, I can be negative and have a bad day or positive and have a good day. And even if everything goes wrong in spite of my positive attitude, I know I have a wonderful man and wonderful kitties to come home to once the day is done.

I have every reason to appreciate each day, and I plan to start doing that as much as possible.

How to lose five pounds in three days

I'm not saying I'm a weight loss guru or anything, but I think I've found a pretty painful way to drop a lot of weight fast. Worry not! I plan to share it with everyone. See, I've unintentionally lost about five pounds over the past few days.

Here's how you can do it, too!

This graphic is brought to you by the finest tools Paint has to offer.

Step One: Get a stomach virus of some sort
I'm talking about the kind of stomach virus that completely debilitates you. If your stomach hurts so much you can't move without tearing up, you're on the right track.

Step Two: Ride that sweet wave of not wanting to eat anything
All that crying will be worth it when your appetite disappears. The moment chocolate cake doesn't make you say "I could go for that!" is when you'll know this has happened.

Step Three: Profit
Your nose may still be running, but you've found the secret to instant weight loss! Pat yourself on the back, which is now slightly easier to do because of all the awful starvation.

I have to point out that, as I'm writing this, I've finally started to crave actual food again. Gideon and I will probably be ordering some garlic chicken and crag rangoons in the next 10 minutes. So keep watching for the follow-up to this, "How to gain five pounds in 12 hours."

The write thing

Earlier this week, the cast of Hamilton performed at the Grammy's before winning the award for best musical album. Lin-Manuel Miranda delivered an amazing acceptance speech, and somehow I found myself having an existential crisis.

But Sam, you're only 24! How can you have an existential crisis? Shouldn't you still be ecstatic about having the freedom to eat ice cream for dinner every night? 

Well, voices in my head, I'm very talented at convincing myself I'm doing everything wrong. You should know that. Aside from my crippling anxiety, I can't help but feel I'm not doing enough creative writing. I see all these successful creative geniuses who are only 10 years older than me and worry I won't have accomplished anything substantial by the time I'm their age.

I want to write books. I want to write poems and short stories and screenplays. Most importantly, I want my work to reach people outside of Arkansas. I love my job and the people I work with, but sometimes I think I'll never be more than I am today.

My biggest problem is not having the motivation to write creative pieces in my free time. I do have free time. I'm not going to lie and say I work my ass off and never have time to eat or sleep or breathe. I do. While I work really hard when I do work, I usually have at least one or two days off during the weekend.

To make matters worse, I get inspired all the time. I can't tell you how many times I've had an idea for a piece I never followed through on. Just a month ago, I outlined a pretty stellar short story to Gideon in the car. We were driving back from Branson, Mo. after visiting with one of his friends. Gideon asked me if I had any story ideas, and I told him one.

(I'm not sharing it here because there's a chance I might write it someday and I'll be damned if you steal my short story idea, Mom!)

"That's really interesting," he told me. "You should write that."

"I should," I said. "I'll do that this weekend."

Then I decided to spend my free time watching Netflix and eating chocolate instead. So it's not inspiration that's lacking here; I've got more inspiration than the Duggars have kids - including grandchildren, of course. It's more about forcing some type of motivation on myself. I'm also really good at coming up with excuses for why I'm not writing in my spare time and I'm so stubborn that I let those excuses rule my attitude.

I don't have a good computer to write on at home. I really need to catch up on Melrose Place, even though it's been over since the late 90s. My cats will be upset if I pay attention to a computer and not them.

Yes, Heather Locklear, you are much more important than my future.

Seriously, I can find any reason under the sun to avoid personal writing. I'm not sure why I do that. Maybe I'm afraid my writing won't be good enough? I can fantasize about the writer I could be in the future without ever writing anything that might prove it. It's easier that way.

YEAH! I'll win an Oscar for best original screenplay. And of course I'm going to do some freelance work for Vanity Fair in-between juggling my sixth book tour and lifestyle blog. (My lifestyle blog would mostly be about what toppings complement a pizza best and how Tyra Banks is an inspiration to everyone with dead eyes.)

To be honest, I'm not sure if I'll ever be more than a small town newspaper reporter. Sometimes I think I'm OK with that. After all, I love my job and my coworkers. I get to see my work in print three times a week. Not many writers can say that.

Other times, I wonder if I could be doing more right now to be the writer I want to be. I know I could. I could easily do more to make that happen without changing anything I'm doing professionally at the moment. So why aren't I doing that?

Well, you do really need to catch up on The Bachelor.

No, inner voices! Don't do this to me again.

This is hopeless.

Well this is certainly terrible but there's a photo of a kitten, so...

So it's Feb. 15 and I haven't blogged all month. I would feel disappointed in myself but I'm too busy constantly working and feeding cats (yes, Gideon and I got another cat) and trying to convince Gideon that he looks really cute in colors that aren't black. It's exhausting, I tell you.

Maybe I shouldn't write anything at all if it's going to be this.

No, screw it.

This is what I'm writing today. I have a job I love that requires me to write and somehow it takes away my ability to write for fun in my free time. The crazy thing is I have free time. I have a lot of it on Saturday and Sunday. I just can't make myself sit down and write after I've spent the entire week writing and calling people and talking to people and explaining what deadlines are.

I've thought about writing five or six blog posts in advance on Saturday but that kind of takes away the magic of blogging. I don't want to share something I wrote because I forced myself to do it so that I won't end up feeling like a total failure at the end of the year when I look at my blog post count and realize it's less than 100.

Oh man, this is going downhill fast. I can't save this post. I pretty much threw it in the ocean without floaties and expected it to be exceptional. That was silly.

I know! I could throw in a photo of my new kitten. That'll make all this worthwhile.

Did that work? Lie to me if it didn't.

Yay! I'm a genius. 

Wedding traditions I do not like

Gideon and I have set a date for our wedding. According to the portrayal of brides on reality TV, I should already be freaking out and pushing his mom out of a moving vehicle for suggesting we change our colors. (Our colors are probably blue and silver - step off Cheri!)

My mom is helping me plan the wedding, and we haven't set much in stone yet save for the date and the venue. Of course that doesn't mean I haven't decided on the things I don't want to do. I am a pessimist at heart, after all.

These traditions include (but certainly aren't limited to!):

1. Being walked down the aisle
2. A sand ceremony/candle lighting/etc.
3. Being announced as "Mr. and Mrs. Husbandfirstname Husbandlastname"
4. A religious ceremony
5. A church ceremony
6. A long ceremony*
7. A ceremony (I'm kidding - we'll have a ceremony but it will be officiated by Sawyer from Lost. Yes he's a real person. Stop trying to bring me down!)
8. Any type of dance*
9. A large bridal/groom party*
10. Allowing other people to eat before I do*
11. Popular music*
12. Being bombarded with rice on our way out of the venue
13. Releasing doves or some other type of foul*
14. Wearing a long dress*
15. Shaving my armpits*
16. Letting Gideon choose what he wants on his groom's cake*

*These are things my mom will probably be able to talk me into doing. If you can't tell, I can be absolutely spineless.

Once we get deeper into wedding planning, I'll try to note as much about the process as possible so I can share it here. That includes taking photos of the people I throw drinks at and/or slap across the face during my bridezilla moments. 

One of the guys

I work closely with three men of varying ages, political leanings and backgrounds. Before we started working together, I truly didn't think there was a difference between men and women. "Oh, we're all people!" I would say, despite what When Harry Met Sally taught me.

I mean, that is mostly true; none of our conversations could ever be considered gender-specific, and we joke with each other more on a human level than anything else. In fact, most of our differences derive from individual personality quirks such as my anxiety or Scott's love of spaghetti sandwiches or David's photography pet peeves.

The only thing that's surprised me about working on a primarily male team is what they eat and how they do it. It absolutely amazes me how little they care about calories. We go to lunch together at least once a week and they almost always get something fried. I love fried food, but I end up getting a grilled chicken salad or something else that makes me want to cry hysterically in public.

Now that I've begun my wedding diet, I've realized that my coworkers really don't care what other people think of them. They especially don't think someone will judge them based on what they order for lunch. (I don't, by the way. I admire them for ordering whatever strikes their fancy that day.) Even better, they'll offer me their food if they think I'm not eating something tasty enough.

"Hey Sam, take a fry," Ty will say.

"You want a few onion rings?" David will ask.

It's awesome. If I were at lunch with women, I'm pretty sure we'd all order side salads without croutons because calories are bad. We'd eat tensely and hope to leave at least half our meal when we're done so we can get a doggy bag, which is considered a badge of honor in some circles. I can't tell you how many times I've heard one of my female friends say, "Oh, I can't finish this. I guess I'll take it home. I'm stuffed."

What I really hear is, "I ate less than you, you monster. And I didn't order cheese."

Meanwhile, I'll be staring at an empty plate wishing it were acceptable to order dessert. Oh, dessert! That's another wonderful thing about going to lunch with men. They always want to know what is available for dessert, even if they aren't hungry. They usually don't end up ordering it but would like to have cakes and pies described to them anyway.

I love that. If I'm not watching what I eat, I could gain 20 pounds in a month going to lunch with my coworkers. (That's a bit of an exaggeration - I hope.) The great thing about it is they really wouldn't care. They wouldn't care what I ate even if I ordered two entrees, an appetizer and dessert. We're there for conversation, not to judge each other based on what we stuffed our faces with at noon.

The other day David told me I'm just one of the guys. I had previously read an article about how that phrase hurts women because it means we have to meet a standard set by men, but I know that isn't how David meant it.

He meant that we're all friends regardless of our gender or how many slices of pizza we had at lunch. That's pretty sweet.