Let Me Ask You Something...

So a couple of weeks ago, I came across a series of interviews. I of course was too much of a wimp to truly participate in the great Interview Experiment of 09 - me blog's a wee boring - so I begged Ginny over at Praying To Darwin to hook me up with a few questions so I could b like all the other cool kids.

Ginny obliged and the rest is, well, about me.
harumph.

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From: Praying to Darwin
Sent: Tuesday, March 03, 2009 12:49 AM
To: Bedrest Banshee
Subject: RE: Interview!

QUESTION ONE: Why did you start the blog? I know you started the blog while on bedrest, but WHY a blog, instead of, say, cross-stitch. Or a novel.

When I was hospitalized at around 22 weeks, the hospital had JUST gotten wireless internet. And I, coincidentally, had JUST got a laptop a scant two months ago. No longer working, and new to having a computer of my own, I didn't have a bunch of pages I visited, or games to play, or tunes to download. I only knew standard applications. And Word ie typing was one.

at the same time being on br was frustrating. Not for the reasons you'd think though. It wasn't being restricted in movement, although that had it's own challenges. It was frustrating coping with other people. There is this complete lack of privacy and you are forced into extremely intimate conversations, situations. Like, if someone says something you don't like and you are home, you can duck your head and wash a dish, or get busy offering coffee. But lying in bed? Your every movement is on display. If you have gas, if you are mad, if you want to cry - it's all wide open. Now add to that I had a few people in my life who just didn't observe the rules of common decency, or social etiquette. So in addition to being trapped in the open, I couldn't escape from their expectations of how I was supposed to behave either. If I wanted to be sad, I'd be told that "it wasn't good for me" If I was angry at a doctor, I was told to "Be patient" When I was scared I was dismissed as being nervous because Ellie was "my first". If I was happy, I was accused of not caring. I was asked if I was bored, if I "really wanted a baby all that much" and it got tiring being Polly Perfect all the time. Tiring being gracious and entertaining my visitors when I really wanted to be alone. I was also captive to a lot of really fucking boring bullshit in the name of keeping me entertained (what, I didn't have books?) So blogging was a way for me to express my reality.

QUESTION TWO: What's on your bedside table right now (don't lie)?
Likely nothing. After my daughter was born, we moved into the (far) smaller bedroom of our two bedroom house (as I like to say "we're only sleeping in there anyway" which doesn't say much for any extracurricular marital activity). Anyway - we have one narrow 3 drawer nightstand that nothing rests on it save for (1) annoyingly bright alarm clock set perpetually to 5:45am, (1) box of tissues because in our massive 1100sq ft house my husband feels compelled to have a box of tissues in every f*cking room so he doesn’t have to travel more then 8 feet to blow his nose and (1) wooden coaster for the omnipresent water glass. And that’s it. No lie.

QUESTION THREE: What's your oh-mah-god, would crawl over my own mother to get it, favorite food?
That would have to be vanilla frosting. Uninspired. Delectable. I met a guy on a plane once. We were flying back from LasVegas trying desperately to spark something, anything and the most compelling thing I can remember about him was that he adored lemon frosting. A six hour flight and we only had one damn thing in common.

QUESTION FOUR: One day, you wake up, and the baby and the husband never existed. What are you doing instead?
Hmmm. If they vanished and I had no memory of it but I had the strength and resources I have today? I suppose I’m working. Prior to this life I was an event planner. But truly my specialty was data. I designed interactive registrations and websites for events. I started to understand logic, people logic I mean, and what they respond to, and ultimately I’m sure I would have become a web architect. I’d still be living here, but further north, likely Maine. I’d be married likely, to someone maybe older, maybe with older kids, or none. We’d have pets and he’d be expressive, maybe an artist of sorts, but with words like a writer or a lawyer, not paintings or fiber arts. He’d be articulate, likely Jewish, his mother would dislike me. I’d be thinner, drink more, cook better. I’d play golf, but not tennis, paddling or kayaking. I'd paint more. Furniture, not walls.

I guess I’d be living a similar life to the one I lead now, but without a child, better at some things that require more attention. Although I have to say, I truly didn’t become happy, happy in my heart, happy away from my prior life and thoughts until the day I met my husband. Everything I’ve done has led me to this particular relationship and although I came to it late, I’d hope that had he never existed I would have found similar peace somewhere soon.

Now that I think about it, had he never existed I know exactly where I’d be today. And it would suck.

QUESTION FIVE: What's the best thing you get out of blogging? The worst?
The best thing used to be being able to say anything I want. Now I like the fact that it’s a living record of a time that otherwise I might not remember. Rereading posts actually evokes the feelings. I find I can go back to the time, and event. So that part I like. And finding other writers that I feel connected to.

The worst is knowing some of your readers and now having to edit so much of what I really feel, really want to talk about. I am also pretty upset that someone who reads my blog that I am not in a close personal relationship with has been reading apparently for quite sometime, lurking if you will, and recently lashed out at my sister for something that she, the reader, really should have addressed in a better way. So I’d like that particular reader to walk away.

QUESTION SIX: Have you ever shoplifted? If so, what?
Indeed I have. Not a lot. Maybe a $.05 peanut butter cup when I worked at the convenience store, which was outright stealing actually. Then there was the Renu lens rewetting drops in college (me and good ol' Pleather Kathy, we were so broke) and finally a pair of jeans at an unnamed store that I was trying on when the mall fire alarm went off. All those sounds, lights, noises. I just walked out of the store with them. After that, nothing. I started worrying about karma, ethics, morality and such.

QUESTION SEVEN: If you could take back one thing you said to another person, what would it be?
Honestly, nothing big really. I’ve never screamed “I wish you were dead” and had someone drop after. I’ve never said anything in anger that I wouldn’t have said normally. I think I only regret all the little STUPID things I’ve said. Like calling someone’s wife by the exwife’s name, like telling a story about someone then finding out I was completely wrong. Nothing truly serious. If fact, overall, I should have said more. Much more.

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And that's it! Thanks to Ginny for her questions and if i can return the favor, or pay it forward so to speak, let me know. I'd be happy to Dr. Phil my way onto anyone's blog. I've got all SORTS of impertinent questions.