A few weeks ago I got the crazy idea to start a new blog. I tossed the idea around for a bit. Then, I got what I needed to give me the incentive to actually do it: a friend said she thought it was a great idea. (Hurray for insecurity and needing outside affirmation.) So I did what any perfectionistic, (my computer is underlining this in red. Is this not a word?) overly-analytical person would do. I researched. I found articles written by (presumably) smart people comparing and contrasting the options. The articles convinced me that WordPress was the choice de jour for independent-minded bloggers. Actually, our family has had a Blogger blog since 2005 which we use to share pictures with grandparents. I guess I wanted to try something different, something that would give me more options and more control. (Hah)
I decided that today, since I had more than two and a half minutes of free time, I would set up the blog. I grabbed my coffee and my laptop.
I downloaded a theme. For a person with decision-making disabilities this task was painful and loaded with anxiety. Once I’d chosen a theme I was given myriad choices. (I wanted choices right?) I chose colors. I moved on to the next step.
Seven and a half hours later I still couldn’t get the picture I’d chosen to fill the header area. Seven and a half hours! Holy guacamole! I’d never felt so stupid. None of this made any sense to me. I searched Google for answers. What I was looking for was something that said, “To get what you want just click the button on the left and proceed.” What I got was, “Here are 17 paragraphs of convoluted computer code that might as well be gibberish. Type this gibberish after the following string of brackets, symbols, letters, and numbers.” (I couldn’t find that string of brackets and symbols ANYWHERE! And had no clue where I would type them if I were inclined.) Seven and a half hours!
I needed a break from WordPress purgatory. I decided to just veg and watch a mindless movie. But first I had to find my 14 year old and ask him to get the TV to work since I couldn’t get it from the X-Box setting back to the TV setting. That makes it sound like it’s the X-box’s fault. Actually, I have no earthly idea how to retrieve a recorded movie from the catalog of recorded movies I assume is somewhere in the TV. I haven’t learned how to use the gobs and gobs of remote controls and gizmos and gadgets that go with the TV. (I feel better now that I’ve confessed.)
I was watching my mindless movie when the phone rang. I needed to turn the volume down. Pausing the movie would have been better, but I didn’t know how to get that button up on the touch screen remote that quickly. I accidentally hit a button (obviously the wrong button) and my movie disappeared. Ken was the one on the phone, so he proceeded to try to tell me what to do to get my movie back on. He wasn’t convinced when I explained that I didn’t see a menu icon on the touchscreen. I got the sense that if he could have reached through the phone and shaken me, he would have. I tried a hundred options and started to cry. All I wanted to do was watch a movie! I really did want to find out what happened next, so I had to call my 14 year old in from the great outdoors and ask him to help me get the movie back up. If I didn’t feel stupid before . . . I definitely felt stupid now! I couldn’t set up a blog and I couldn’t set up a movie. I tried hard to watch what he was doing to get the movie back, but he was going so fast. Click. Click. Scroll. Click. He let out a deep breath and gave me the “this is so easy” look. He assumed it was a sad movie. I wasn’t about to tell him I was crying because I couldn’t work the blasted remote control!
I decided this is probably not a good day to write the “about me” thingy for the blog: Hi my name is Kian, this is my blog, and I have no idea what I’m doing. (Hmm, maybe I should write it tonight . . .)
It occurs to me that I’ve let out a deep sigh and given my kids that “this is so easy” look. They’re bright kids, they just don’t know everything. They need a little help and a lot of patience. They’ll get it. I know they will. (Even if right now they misspell the same word three different ways, all wrong, in the same paragraph!) I’m not a quitter. I’ll get it. Eventually. And then, maybe, I’ll write something worthwhile here.