conclusions and beginnings

It's been awhile. I've been thinking about this blogging thing a lot lately. I read some excellent blogs on a daily basis, truly brilliant. These people sit down and craft a post and even on not-so-great days they are more interesting and funnier than I have ever been on this blog. Maybe I shouldn't be comparing my blog to their (infinitely more successful) blogs, after all, I don't have the readership they do, which is surely a motivation to construct something worthwhile. I also don't have the comments they do. I don't care who you are - if you blog, you care about comments. When you don't get any you feel like you're having a conversation with yourself, which isn't very fulfilling when it happens on a regular basis. I know I shouldn't gauge the success of my blog by the number of comments, but I can't help it. I see the 3,000+ hits this blog has received and wonder where the fuck the comments are - then again, more popular blogs receive that same number of hits every hour. I also know I'm skipping down the wrong path if I think this blog is going to gain any sort of "success" with the type of shit I post on a regular basis.

I started this with the hopes it would give me a great creative outlet, but mostly I find myself blabbering about stupid shit - at best, reminiscent of a diary entry. At worst, a spewing of random thoughts that are very...base. I also wanted this blog to bring me fame and fortune. Oh, you think it doesn't happen? You don't read enough blogs. Certain bloggers really do live off the income from advertisements and have job offers and media interviews practically thrown at them. I thought I could display oodles of wit and type up some lovely, well-crafted pieces about, you know, life and shit, things that would make you go hmmm. Turns out I have absolutely no motivation or discipline. Not the kind it takes to make writing a profession, or even a hobby that might take me "somewhere." Sure, I still want to write a book (I WILL, DAMNIT!) but it will happen when it should, when I have something to say. Something more than "Look! I got a dog! How grown-up of me!"

I'm not going to close down Gab Lab just yet, I'll keep it around in case the mood strikes, and I'm sure it will quite randomly. I guess I'm just disappointed by my own efforts, and how even when I wrote some seriously heart-felt entries, I got nary a comment. Perhaps I shouldn't care so much, but I do. I know you are reading. I am talking to you. It's a conversation with friends. Maybe that's my problem. I should be considering it a conversation with myself, for myself. Period. But I'm a social creature. I want interaction with my bestest friends who are, not coincidentally, my only readers. (I think. There's someone in Ohio that stops by a lot. Hi, whoever you are!)

I'll leave you with an update, if for no other reason than I'm giving myself some closure:
I was offered a job yesterday. Should various background checks and drug tests be passed, I'll be working at a coffee distribution company (I don't want to mention the name, but you'd recognize it) that is five short and easy minutes from home. When I went in for my first interview I fell in love with the place. Not only was their lobby decorated with the same Cyclamen plants we have at home, the entire office has dark hardwood floors - so inviting and homey. There are sofas scattered about, lovely well-worn rugs in the halls, and a ridiculously well-stocked breakroom. We're talking a wall of coffee, which includes a massive section of delicious mix-ins like "chocolate marshmallow" and "kreamy kahlua." There's even a coffee shop-grade espresso machine for us to use. Too bad I can only drink decaf. I mean, really. POOR. ME.

The puppy is great, though last night we had to take him to the animal hospital. After a walk and a nap last night, nothing seemed amiss. But then I walked into the kitchen and turned around to see Avery walking towards me completely uncoordinated, like he was drunk. He could barely stand up. His head was wobbling around like Muhammed Ali. He tried to run and fell. Micah thought we should wait it out, he probably ate something untoward or lapped up some of my wine when I wasn't looking. But I couldn't stand to see him like that, I was really worried - I mean, how do we know it's not fatal, whatever it is? Micah put him on the couch and Avery got really sleepy, except his eyes were rolling back and his tongue was hanging out. I thought surely he was dying. I called the animal hospital and they said bring him in right away. So we raced him over to the hospital and the doctor's opinion was that he ate something bad, which is not surprising at all. I monitor him as much as I can, but the little dude has become very sneaky about picking things up in his mouth. He knows I take everything unapproved away from him, so he gulps things down without chewing. He could've licked some antifreeze off the ground. He could've found a chocolate bar. Don't know, never will, and I feel terrible about it. At the hospital they made him throw up repeatedly and gave him fluids and a dose of charcoal. I feared the bill - animal hospitals are notoriously expensive, just like going to the ER - but was pleasantly surprised that they got my puppy back in fine form for a mere $137. I had visions of a surgery for thousands of dollars because the little shit ate some glass or something. Not so. I am delighted to report that this morning Avery was back to his hyper, chew-oriented self, entirely happy about snarfing down food and chasing cats.

Well, I guess this is where I stop talking and officially take my blog break. With my boss retiring in four weeks and me leaving here in two weeks...let's just say I have A LOT to do. Hundreds of files need to be sent to other locations. Hundreds of office supplies need to be ordered for the people who will still be here. I will probably do more in the next two weeks than I have done in the 14 months I've been here.

See you around.

-Gabby