Apr 17, 2016

I Want to Quit Blogging: 10 Reasons Why

     Instagram is funny. I always find those short descriptions people put up about themselves amusing. It's also quite astounding how much  bullshit  information people cram into those few measly symbols. I especially like those that try to list all of the vocations or nouns they can think of: "Singer, model, blogger, aunt, videographer, breakup survivor, designer, fitness-freak, social media connoisseur, photographer, stylist, pole dancer and movie buff. Oh and macaroon-perfector. And influencer." Like who the fuck are you? Jesus? Just because you take 5000 selfies a day (possibly half naked), that doesn't mean you're a model — it just means you're insecure, conceited or both. And you're not all of those other things either, no matter what logic misled you into thinking that you are. I can basically hear them pondering, "Hmm... I fell down the stairs once, I'll put down stuntman." STOP IT. I once scratched a wart out of my foot with a pair of compasses but I don't go around telling people that I'm a doctor. Fuck.
      In all honesty, I rarely tell people that I'm anything anyway. Annoying? Yes. Nosy? Sure. Stubborn? That too, but those are all adjectives, while I only rarely associate nominal labels with myself and when I do, I never do it laxly — I believe one should go to school for or first get paid to do the thing they want to be named the doer of, not just go on and proclaim themselves that. So obviously red flags go up whenever I'm labelled something I clearly am not which happened not too long ago.
     Last week, my boyfriend picked up photography after neglecting the hobby for a bit and while playing with his CANON (traitor! (just kidding)) camera on the couch, he said, "You'll tell me a thing or two, right, if I won't remember stuff when we go out and shoot?"
      "Why? I don't know shit, why would you ask me anything?"
      "What are you talking about? You're a photographer, that's why."
      "No. No, I'm not."
      "Yes, you are, you have that fancy camera, remember?"
     "Wait. One DSLR camera doesn't not a photographer make," I said and put an end to that nonsense, thinking that I was done with lenient labelling for a while. But I was wrong.
     A couple of days after the just mentioned yes-you-are-no-I'm-not 'incident', it appeared to be time for round two, but this time it was far worse, this time I got called a label that I'm probably dreading the most out of all — a blogger. Here's what happened.
     Me and my boyfriend went out for a walk and ran into the owner of Dea's favorite play-date playmate, I'll call him the dude for the remainder of this post. So, after we've exchanged hellos and a sprinkling of pleasantries, the dude all of a sudden turned to me and said, "Hey, I saw the link to your site on Facebook. So what, you're a blogger?"
     Honestly, that word ... it makes my skin crawl. Therefore I hastily said, "No, no, nothing like that. I have this ... webpage, though, yes." But, please, just don't call me a blogger, I didn't add, that alone makes me want to quit blogging altogether.
     And as I stood there listening to the dude trying to convince me that I am in fact a blogger, I thought, and not for the first time, boy, I really want to quit blogging. Along with that thought, all of the other reasons flashed through my mind in a whirlwind as well. 

   I   W.A.N.T   T.O   Q.U.I.T   B.L.O.G.G.I.N.G   
—10 reasons why—


         1 Running Out of Ideas...

I hate taking blog photos where there are other people — I already feel stupid and silly taking my own pictures even without random people's inquisitive stares. But from time to time I have to suck it up and do it and that's when I have to deal with those random people and their even more random comments. But I've learned to ignore the comments, it's the questions that bother me because I'm running out of ideas on what to tell people what it is I'm doing. I've already been a student of a bunch of different universities shooting some stuff for school, taking pictures for some promotional material (thank fuck nobody's never asked me what the promotion was about) and once I even said I was just taking some plot measurements because some grandpa mistook my tripod for a piece of land-surveying equipment. But I've never once told people the truth — that I'm taking some shots for my blog. Why? Because those are the comments I really can't deal with since people automatically associate girls with blogs with narcissistic dimwits who only know how to talk about make-up and clothes, which obviously isn't the case here — I like to talk about dicks too.


         2 Too Much Work & Not Enough Play...

At least 5 days a week, I sit behind my computer to do my job when I'd much rather be doing this and so I resent it because it's taking me time away from blogging, but the truth is I love my job — I'm doing exactly what I wanted ever since my last year of high school when we had to apply for university but because I'm always pressed for time when doing this, I fucking hate it. But since I'm not getting paid for writing pointless shit on the Internet and wandering around taking pictures, I can't exactly neglect the thing that butters my bread. And my butt (I wonder if anti-cellulite massages are tax-deductible for freelancers).


         3 Social Media Mania...

I despise social media beyond belief. Truly, I do. If there weren't for For Peet's Sake, I wouldn't have one single account anywhere. All social media is pointless and moronic and I don't want to have anything to do with it. Alas I have a Twitter, Instagram, Google+ and Facebook profile — and a death wish — because everybody says you have to promote your work via as many channels as you can and thus I reluctantly do so because what good is a blog if it doesn't have any readers. Everyone also says that 'people need to be told what to do' so it's imperative that you constantly ask, remind, tell, suggest, prompt and basically beg people to like, share, follow, whatever. I in all honesty cannot do that so I just cross my fingers and hope, mostly in vain, that people will be smart and considerate enough on their own without me being a complete social media whore, otherwise I'd really be quitting this shit before the month ended.


         4 Unsupportive Friends & 'Friends'...

Probably the weirdest, saddest, most surprising thing about this whole blogging endeavor of mine is the level of support I've gotten from people that personally know me. I once read about the blogging beginning of a now very successful blogger and she said that she never imagined getting so successful and still remembered how excited she was when only her friends and family read her work at first. That certainly triggered something in me and I remember thinking, "Hmm, I wonder what that's like ..." because I, on the other hand, can count the number of friends who've shown me some support in one way or another on the fingers of one hand — and there would be leftover fingers. Which I don't get, frankly. It costs nothing and it only takes 5 minutes a week to go through my post, but that's too much to bother for most, even for my closest friends. I remember sitting at a bar once having a drink with one of them and some random person came by saying, "Liked your post today, funny as fuck," and then turning to my friend, "Right? You know what I'm talking about, you probably read all of them." Crickets. And I felt like the biggest idiot because I have friends who couldn't care less. But not just about reading, you can forget about helping me out and actually sharing something too, even though I've asked, but apparently that's literally too much to ask for. Funny though, how people don't have any problems asking for favors themselves, just the part where they could actually return one is an issue. Fuckers.


         5 The Weather Man...

Remember the pictures from this post? I had to go there four times to get the clouds I wanted. Or how about the pictures in this post? I went to these ruins two times, because the first time the sun was shining as bright as ever and there wasn't a cloud in sight — even though it was supposed to rain. I'm seriously going to kill the weather man if he doesn't get his shit together and start giving me some useful, truthful information.


         6 Reader Is King...

As I said before, what good is a blog if it doesn't have any readers, so of course just like 'customer is king' in a store, I'd be an idiot if I didn't at least to some extent abide by the 'reader is king' rule. Unfortunately, that means I can't always blog about stuff I want because stuff I most want to write about doesn't get read the most, which I can't fucking wrap my head around: who doesn't want to read about dogs and their daily predicaments?? Dear Doggie Diary's posts namely get the least attention, but if it was up to me, FPS would be full of them because trust me, dogs have a lot more insightful things to say then I do, so you're missing out.


         7 Self-Deprecation Factor...

I'm self-deprecating as it is and having a blog gives me plenty of opportunities to showcase my self-deprecating talents because people in general sure like to poke fun at me for doing something creative with my free time. I don't necessarily care that they think this is stupid or that I'm stupid but what bothers me is that I always try to change the subject or simply just agree that this is all a joke and laugh it off instead of telling them that FPS got mentioned on national television during evening news in a segment on Slovene blogging scene for fuck's sake, so fuck off. But that wouldn't be that self-deprecating of me now, would it? So I simply giggle my way out of the conversation if my blog comes up.


         8 Excessive Grooming...

Look, I'm not saying I'd walk around like Cousin Itt half the year if it weren't for blogging but I'd sure be happy if I didn't have to pluck and wax and shave as much as I have to thanks to FPS and its photos all year round. Just last week, for example, I had to pluck the hairs on my big toe after diligently growing them out for three months because I decided to wear open-toe heels. You can't even see in the pictures if I have toes or not, let alone toe hair, but I still had to groom myself because I was out in public and I really don't have any idea what I'd say if some random question of some random person was: "Can I take a picture with you, Chewbacca?" Although I hate the grooming aspect, though, I think that's the part of blogging my boyfriend probably likes the most.


         9 Photo Effect...

For someone who loves to write, has won a writing competition or two and puts more time and effort into the written part of every post than anything else, it's really fucking aggravating when people get hung up on photos and photos alone. So no wonder that the most irksome comment I've gotten over the years was, "Too long to read but I loooooooove the pics. ^_^" It made me want to grab my computer and hurl it out of the window. And then get my hands on another one, go online and sell my domain and end this whole thing — just so I could prevent that from happening again. I didn't and it did, though.


         10 It's Illegal...

If you're like a friend of mine and have strong maternal instincts, you may think that the biggest problem with these pictures is the fact that I'm standing on a half-meter ledge over five meters above ground without anything preventing or cushioning my fall, but it actually isn't — it's trespassing. Just as is here, here, here, here, here, here and here. Basically anywhere fun that I want to go and shoot, it's illegal for me to be there. But the legal places are so boring (and so crowded). Besides, climbing fences acts as a nice counterbalance to my butt buttering job.


     So as all of this was swirling in my mind while I was simultaneously trying to decide if I wanted to handle the dude insisting on me being a blogger by changing the subject, yet again, by making a mockery out of myself, yet again, or by simply being quiet and waiting till the 'fun'-poking ended, yet again, the most magical thing happened: the dude said, "... so sure you're a blogger. Too bad you're in Slovenia, though. With a site like that, you could go places. But with all these ignorant fuckers here ..."
     Wow. That came out of nowhere. "Em ... thanks. I mean ... Thanks. Frankly, it feels good to hear you say that, because I put a lot of thought and time into it actually."
      "It shows. Just don't give up, you know, baby steps."
      "I don't intend to," I half-lied.
     Why only half? Because even though I do think about these things on a weekly basis and I do think about giving this up from time to time, I'm not going to, far from it. I'm actually thinking about upgrading this with a ... Well. We'll all just have to wait and see, won't we. So despite the weather man playing for the other team, the general lack of support and the occasional death scare, I don't want to quit blogging, not really —  just the other day I read online that the creative adult is the child who survived and I'll be damned if I don't keep my inner child alive, even if I have to force-feed the little fucker crayons.
      But still. Don't call me a blogger.





     Thanks for stopping by and looking and reading (obviously) my mishmash jumble of pot-pourri-like craziness, it means the world to me. Therefore, you're welcome to pop by again next week to see what's new on the blog — I post once a week every week, most likely somewhere between Wednesdays and Sundays. But beware, I'm not signing and sealing that in blood so your best bet is to follow FPS via email (or Bloglovin, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook or Google+) to never miss an update. Or simply come by again sometimes!




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