You're Welcome Here, and If I Didn't Want to Write Something In Public, I Certainly Wouldn't Put it Up on a Publicly Accessible Blog on the Internet

I just read a comment on another blog, and it's not the first time I've read pretty much this precise comment. It's goes more or less like this: "I just have to comment on this--I don't normally comment here, because I feel weird reading your blog when I don't know you..."

PEOPLE. Blogs are PUBLIC! They are out there on the Interwebs for all to read.

Maybe people honestly don't realize this, but if bloggers don't want you to read their blogs they can keep them private, unsearchable by Google, and essentially unfindable by you. That's right! It's totally possible to blog away in a hidden corner of the Internet only the blogger (and any friends and family to whom they have given their URL) can find. Similarly, if bloggers don't want you to comment on their blogs, they can disable the commenting function. True story!

Thus you may assume that if you have somehow stumbled on a blog, you are very much invited to the party. If the comments are enabled, you're not only invited to be present, you're welcome to join in the conversation. Encouraged to do so, even. Bloggers love having readers, and they also love getting comments. Comments are part of the point of blogs.

That doesn't mean, by the way, that you should ever feel weird about not commenting if you don't want to (though I've seen posts by bloggers that might lead you to believe otherwise, and that just annoys me--you're not obligated to comment on a blog simply because the blogger has put their writing out in public and you've chosen to read it).

You are welcome here (and on any public blog) and you are welcome to speak up and make yourself known and interact with us if you feel moved to do so. I think I can speak for Lis too when I say that here at Half-Assed Mama, we pretty much love hearing from people, making new friends, discovering their blogs. But you are also most welcome to stop by this space and read and remain quiet if that's more comfortable.

Here We Are

Just in case you were wondering.

On Being Half Assed

It’s come to my attention that I’m now a blogger. Probably this isn't the sort of thing that sneaks up on most bloggers. But considering that I’ve spent the last three years reading many blogs and thinking (too) deeply about whether or not a blog was really something I could manage, I think it’s best that Lis has forced my hand.

So hey! I’m a blogger. Which, as Lis kindly reminded me this morning, means I should probably post something once in a while.

First off, let’s discuss this concept of being “half-assed.” A friend of ours started using the term a few years ago, mostly in relation to plans we were making—if it was a “half-assed” plan, it meant we could make the plan without feeling commitment shy about it. A sudden need to cancel an outing wouldn’t be taken as lack of love, ditzyness, lack of responsibility or follow-through, etc. We were close enough to understand that on the morning after one of us had had insomnia all night, a day trip to San Francisco probably wasn’t our best bet. We were close enough to understand that sometimes, even when you technically have a plan with a friend, your introvert nature takes over at the last minute and you must. be. alone.

So that was the origin, but the “half-assed” business has spread to other arenas. While it sounds flip, it’s actually come to mean something pretty important to me, and I think to Lis as well. (Though, just because we now have a blog together, we do not yet have a brain together, so I’ll leave it to her to correct me if I’m wrong.)

What I can say with certainty is that both halves of this here blogging team suffer from a certain...let’s call it a “wealth of perfectionism,” shall we? A wealth of perfectionism that doesn’t always serve us as well as we might hope. So half-assed? Really lightens things up—I mean, if what you’re going for is half-assed, just how nuts can you make yourself with the details? Just how comatose from worry can you become over whether it will all be good enough? Just how much can you bother procrastinating when, after all, you’re only going for half-assed?

And the miraculous thing is that if you set out for half-assed and actually get something done, it’s so much more productive than aiming for perfect and being all tied up in knots about even beginning. Whaddaya know?

Of course, the blog name also makes us laugh because some of us around here aren’t actually mamas at all. But apparently, I’m doing okay as a half-assed auntie. Recently, Lis’s profoundly lovely three-year-old patted my cheeks, looked at me adoringly and said, “My little Amy.”