I got tired of rifling through my comments to link to sites that I read, so I put them on the side bar. You should read them too. Unless you write them, that is. Obviously, the writers probably aren’t terribly interesting in reading what they just wrote. They might find typos. That’s what happens to me anyway.
The run down (for those of you too lazy to click yet):
“Girl in Her Underwear” is not, as one would first imagine, a site dedicated to women in their underwear. It’s supposed to be an analogy about how the blog is really her, unguarded and open. I say “supposed to be” because my current theory is that the title was picked as a way to frustrate men surfing the net for scantily clad women. Which, at least to me, is funny. The site is a well written, often candid, usually funny look into the life of a mom somewhere in the US.
So, to recap, the site doesn’t have any actual underwear in it. If you’re looking for that, you’ll have to go elsewhere. Then again, if you’re looking for that, why would you be reading my site?
“Will the Real Me Please Stand Up?” is not actually the name of the blog that links there. It’s called “Six Kids!” I chose the subtitle of the blog as the link because I think it better suits the content. I’m not sure how to describe the site outside of saying that it’s a record of a woman finding herself and God, and trying to make sense of both. She asks good questions. The fact that her writing is sharp, engaging, and easy to read is really just a bonus.
Finally, “I ain’t dead yet” is my Dad’s blog. Thus far it’s his poetry. It’s good, but loses something without his voice booming behind every syllable, his heart filling every word. Then again, if you haven’t heard him read it, you won’t know what you’re missing. I’m trying to get him to post more. He’s a large reason reason I look at the world the way I do, and it’d be great if he decided to start putting that down on paper… well, cyber paper.
The run down (for those of you too lazy to click yet):
“Girl in Her Underwear” is not, as one would first imagine, a site dedicated to women in their underwear. It’s supposed to be an analogy about how the blog is really her, unguarded and open. I say “supposed to be” because my current theory is that the title was picked as a way to frustrate men surfing the net for scantily clad women. Which, at least to me, is funny. The site is a well written, often candid, usually funny look into the life of a mom somewhere in the US.
So, to recap, the site doesn’t have any actual underwear in it. If you’re looking for that, you’ll have to go elsewhere. Then again, if you’re looking for that, why would you be reading my site?
“Will the Real Me Please Stand Up?” is not actually the name of the blog that links there. It’s called “Six Kids!” I chose the subtitle of the blog as the link because I think it better suits the content. I’m not sure how to describe the site outside of saying that it’s a record of a woman finding herself and God, and trying to make sense of both. She asks good questions. The fact that her writing is sharp, engaging, and easy to read is really just a bonus.
Finally, “I ain’t dead yet” is my Dad’s blog. Thus far it’s his poetry. It’s good, but loses something without his voice booming behind every syllable, his heart filling every word. Then again, if you haven’t heard him read it, you won’t know what you’re missing. I’m trying to get him to post more. He’s a large reason reason I look at the world the way I do, and it’d be great if he decided to start putting that down on paper… well, cyber paper.
Comments
The funny thing is that when I first started reading, I thought I'd be less confused after reading it, but i think I've confused Tom more. (Sorry Tom.)
Yeah, I noticed that it's now Girl Exposed instead of the old title. I'd go back and change it, but, frankly, I'm too lazy. We're talking minutes of typing and updating that I don't have the energy for.
Merry Mama,
Being confused is good. It means we're thinking. My theory is that the people who aren't confused have stopped thinking some time ago, thus allowing them the freedom of a confusion-less existence.
In other words, I'm pretty sure that words can't make the world a straightforward place. And if they can, they certainly won't be my words.