As I was making myself a sandwich the other day, I realized that life blogging is a lot like a jar of peanut butter.
Excuse me, could you please pass the jelly?
Now, before you go all “crazy eyebrow” on me – I don’t mean physically (although some of my blog posts do tend to stick to the roof of your mouth if you’re not careful), but more in a metaphorical sense.
After all, for both peanut butter and blogs, everyone’s got their own personal favorite brand and style, and many folks will spend hours (if not their entire lives) trying to convince you that their version is superior to yours.
If it’s not crunchy, you’re dead to me.
[Note: SuperChunk not to be confused with Superchunk.]
Heck, some people are so gung-ho about their peanut butter blogging that they seem totally immersed in the experience.
Hey, what you do in the privacy of your own kitchen is none of my concern.
And, well, let’s face it – some people just don’t understand the concept of blogging and come out with the craziest, most disjointed stuff ever written on the face of the planet.
This is an unholy concoction that should be stricken from humanity’s collective memory.
BUT, I’m digressing from my tangent.
Peanut Butter. Blogging. One and the same.
Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You start off with that tabula rasa. The jar blog is pure and unmarred, the slate wiped clean and ready for you to make of it what you will…
And and first, you’re enamored with your new jar blog, putting your personal touches on it as only you can…
It may not be an everyday thing for you, but you’re always eager to come back for another helping (at least at first).
But after a while, things are feeling a bit stale, and maybe you’re a bit set in your ways. You have to dig deeper to get the same level of quality out of the jar blog.
And before you know it, you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re writing about the quesadilla you had for lunch last Tuesday – and not because it was divine, but because you can’t seem to pull anything else out of the depths of your own personal peanut butter jar.
Seriously, try to get this out with the tip of your knife. Ha! Can’t do it, can you?
If you’re not careful, this path can lead to severe depression. Left unchecked, you’ll probably end up huddled in the fetal position, trying to use a spatula to eke out a few remaining teaspoons of that delicious substance from an empty container.
Unless you're a bear or Gene Simmons, I'd recommend a spatula over trying to use your tongue.
But wait! There’s a solution! Just like you can buy a new jar (or make one yourselves, you hippies, you), you can restock your own personal store of inspiration and start anew. Unlike peanut butter, though, Amazon can’t deliver this to your door. But don’t fret! Just mix things up or try something new – embark on a grand new adventure, teach someone a new card game, or watch a movie. Volunteer for a local charity, learn a musical instrument, give blood, or paint a picture. Clean your bathroom, build a birdhouse, take a road trip, shave your head, or jump in a pile of leaves (preferably one someone else raked together.)
And then, most importantly, blog about it. Don’t worry if your new source of inspiration doesn’t last as long as a previous one – some jars are bigger than others. (And sometimes, you used a soup spoon to dig a big ol’ hunk of peanut butter out of the jar instead of using a knife like your parents taught you.) But hey, there’s always more Skippy on the shelf, and with a bit of effort, I’m betting your personal stock of peanut butter is renewable, too.
