Starting a blog is easy, at least the fundamentals of getting it started. Figuring out what your blog is going to be about, not so easy. I have jumped around and looked at many other blogs that are out there. Quite an impressive array of talent exists!
Some mornings I wake up panicked. What do I write? Did anyone read my blog? Did they like my blog? I could go on and stress myself out to the heavens, but truthfully I have come to realize that I don’t write to please anyone except myself.
I named my blog Louie Behogan after my childhood stuffed animal and as a tribute to my father who not only introduced me to Louie Behogan, but fostered my love to write. Both my parents instilled a wacky sense of humor and creativity within me that I have successfully passed along to my own spawns.
To wake up each day and to look for the humor in life, no matter how rotten of a day, that is the challenging factor to this blog. Luckily, I have a muse every which way I look within my life. My own household filled with insane characters of human and animal natures. My long existing quest to find a job and the trials and tribulations of being unemployed. My wacky and insane friends who support me and keep me laughing on a daily basis.
Truly, it’s an inspirational world if you choose to look at it inspiringly.
With that said, let me tell you that what I write depends upon the moment, the muse, an emotion, or a malfunction in my twisted mind.
Surprisingly this morning, the hubby actually brought me a hot cup of tea in bed and the smallest child attempted to make waffles on her own. Tell me my blog is not good for something!
We are a strange crew within this house, with who is at the top of the strange list changing daily. I am so proud of my children’s warped sense of human and their own developing creativity. I would like to take sole credit, but hubby is just as strange.
Snippet of a conversation yesterday…
Middle child proclaims that Norman Betta’s fish tank is starting to stink up the whole house. Totally untrue and just a mean, spiteful and jealous remark. Why are you so mean to Norman Betta?
Small child comes in with “Because he took our mother to psycho town.” To which middle child responds, “she was already there.”
See how proud they make me?
Like a bird on a hippo. These are my baby birds that depend on me, and I am their hippo that benefit from them. I was thinking about this analogy, and then this morning as I lay in bed I was watching the loving bond between the big dog and the little dog, and it hit me. We all are either birds or hippos, some can even be fish, which ever one you choose to be in my analogy, they all help each other to thrive.