Theme Blogs. True ConFession.

Don't read another word if you are a blog author who writes based on themes.  You know blogs I'm talking about; the ones that follow one or more daily themes:  Solemn Sundays; Moody Mondays or Meatless Mondays; Wordless Wednesdays; Thankful Thursdays; ConFession Fridays; Silly Saturdays.  I don't believe I've ever come across a theme blog for Tuesdays - oh wait, I have a friend who occasionally pens a Truth Tuesday page.  But really, I don't want you to be offended by my view of most such blog theme days.  And I'm about to offer my opinion.

You see, although today is not Friday, I have a conFession to make:  I don't like theme days (with two exceptions: I do like the Truth Tuesday posts penned by a friend; and I do like h/school blogs with a weekly wrap-up post because I find them idea-generating).  I have a hard time reading theme blogs.  Of course, I could be accused of having a sort of theme day myself, given that for the past two or three weeks I have posted a Weekly H/School Journal item on Saturdays...but this, to be honest, is more for my own record-and-journal-keeping purposes than it is for any other purpose...and I'll surprise myself if I stick with these weekly posts for much longer!  Given that the number of hits on my blog are the lowest on those days, that may simply bolster my point that theme blogs aren't all that interesting to most.

For example, I always know that on Wednesdays, my blog reading will be pretty slim pickings because many of the blogs out there (including some of my favourites...but please don't be offended if you use themes on your blog...I just may not read it on Wednesdays...because there's nothing to read!) focus on Wordless Wednesdays, and the blog author simply posts a picture on the blog.  A picture without words attached to it.  It's not that I mind posts that feature photos - I actually quite enjoy them, and I post lots of photos myself on this blog.  But I prefer them to be accompanied by a description of sorts.  By words.  For me it's not all that true that a picture is worth a thousand words...I want the words.  It's just that I don't really get the point of a regular Wordless blog post when blogging is all about the words.  At least it is for me (you may have noticed the title of my blog, which correctly infers that I can tend towards being long-winded).  So I usually sigh on Wednesdays, and know that I won't be able to enjoy my usual blog 'fix' when tucked up into bed at night.

Fridays, I conFess, are other such days for me.  Though I follow and love blogs which sadly employ ConFession Friday habits, I will quietly say that I usually skip this day in my blog-reading world.  I cringe and can hardly bear to turn my eyes towards ConFession Friday posts that read something like "I confess that it's raining outside" or "I confess that we have a great weekend planned" or "I confess that my hair looks awesome today" or some other such thing that in no way constitutes a confession!  Just recently I read one such Friday ConFession blog post that said "I confess...my boyfriend proposed and I said, totally, yes!"  Yeah, that really constitutes a conFession!  Come on, people.

Unless I've been reading the wrong dictionary all these years, a conFession is supposed to be some sort of outpouring of one's deepest and darkest secrets...something that is, frankly, a little bit embarrassing to write about.  It should be something that gives you, dear reader, a little bit of insight into the things that the blog writer does that are hypocritical, embarrassing, wrong, indulgent, etc etc..  Ang, you do write good confessions!

As a blog reader, if I'm going to take the time to read ConFession Friday blogs, I want to read some good old fashioned embarrassing things that make me feel better about myself!  It does nothing, zippo, for me to hear you 'conFess' that you have cleaned your house from top to bottom, when my house looks like a tornado just passed through it; I feel nothing but like a failure when you conFess to being so darn near perfect with your great planned weekends and sparkly-faced children that I can hardly bear to read your words...but do anyway.  I want to hear about how nasty you were in your latest conversation with your partner so that I can feel a bit better about the crusty words I used with mine; I want to read that you dumped a friend by texting them so that I can point the finger at you instead of remembering that I didn't call a friend back for six months; I want to hear that you owe back-taxes (preferably in the million dollar amount) so that my own neglect in yet filing my tax return can seem like a paltry problem in comparison to yours.

Here's a conFession from me:  I conFess that when I was going through my tough months last fall, I read a few books that were either harlequin romances or something closely related.  I read another one just a month or so ago and I could no longer use depression as an excuse.  What does that say about me?  Now this might not be a conFession for people who consider harlequin-type reading just fine.  But it is a real conFession from this blog writer because I am interested in reading a certain type of literature and I find it a little humiliating to acknowledge reading books that I do not consider literature of my usual or preferred ilk.  It seriously pains me just to have written this paragraph and I feel like groaning to think about pressing the 'publish' button.  But they say conFession is good for the soul.

How about another little conFession from me:  Last week, after a particularly bad day of parenting, and after putting the kids to bed, I ate two bowls of vanilla/chocolate swirl ice cream, for a total of three well-endowed scoops.  I didn't even enjoy it beyond the first 3-4 mouthfuls because I felt so guilty about eating it - but I ate it all nonetheless and felt like licking the bowl clean (whether or not I actually did might constitute a conFession for another day).  See?  That's another self-revealing, embarrassing thing to admit to - because I'm very overweight, and because I generally stay away from eating after supper for that very reason.  And because I'd like for you to think that I have my act together.  But now you know about me that when I'm having a tough time, I'm inclined to turn to food for emotional comfort.  That's conFession.

I have conFessed to two miniscule (or is it minuscule?) little things about myself to demonstrate the nature of true conFession.  I could tell you all kinds of things about myself that would be far more revealing and that would have you gasping in shock at the real scoundrel and blackguard I am.  (Can you see the influence of those harlequin books on my choice of words just there??!  Blackguard? Scoundrel?  Please.)

Really, I could conFess to things that you'd never believe about me.  But I'm not going to do that because I don't write ConFession Friday blogs...and neither should most other people, IMHO.

Opinionated enough for you?

Hmm, it actually felt good to get this post off my chest.  A little freer.  A little more relaxed, now that you know more of the nasties about me.

Maybe I need to reconsider my stance.