I have never once in my entire life done anything practical.

I have spent 36 years wearing a superhero cape and telling people I have magical powers.

I have leaped off more buildings than I can count.
Screaming—I’M SUPERMAN.
And then crashing into the pavement.

It has given me all kinds of problems.
Not to mention whiplash.

And also the realization that I lack the gene to learn from my mistakes.
In its place, I got an extra gene.  Of self-delusion.
The ability to cling to an idea regardless of reality.

Q:  Where did Rocky get the Kingdom mirror?  
Rocky does clean-outs.  It was in a storage unit.  

A story about a giant mirror, and Craigslist, and how much I LOVE you people.Q: How tall? Slightly over 8′.  Ceiling is 9′.

I started this blog with the conviction that people would find me via magic and unicorns.

And the disparity between what my imagination had planned, and actual reality?
Has been a little soul-crushing.
And irritating.

Not to mention how unicorns are totally unreliable. Flaky.
So distracted by rainbows and deep-conditioning their manes.

But I have told myself that if I JUST KEPT GOING.  It would be worth it.
After all, my parents promised me that hard work always pays off.

Although, I don’t think they took into consideration how one day I might wake up and decide to spend all my free time doing what is essentially quirky performance-art for strangers.

That’s what blogging is: the millennium-version of mimes.  You don’t see those people anymore, do you?  No.  You don’t.  They all went home and washed their faces and started a blog.

A story about a giant Victorian mirror, and Craigslist, and how I started a blog.The story of the mirror in the foyer is here.  If you want to know how we mounted it to the wall.

For an entire year, I have been standing on your lawn in my mime-outfit.
In the rain and the snow.
Believing that if I loved you enough.
SURELY YOU WOULD LOVE ME BACK.

But sometime in the last few months, I started to doubt my plan.
I was cold.  And tired.  And it was like you didn’t even see me.

Was I at the right house?
Were you away?

And I started to notice that there were all kinds of other mimes on your lawn.
Squatters.  Vying for your attention.

Some of them had way nicer leotards than me.
I wanted to kick them all in the shin.

Until last Tuesday.  When the unicorns FINALLY showed up.

Story of how my blog took off.

It would be impossible for me to overstate my euphoria.

Which for most people translates into gratitude to a higher power… and for me, translates into wanting to lock you all in my basement so you can never leave me.

For a week, I did nothing but sit in front of my pageview-counter and hit refresh.

Refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh.

Refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh, refresh.

REFRESH.

REFRESH.

It was the most productive week of my life.

3k fb crop7k fb shares crop15k crop21k crop28k crop

I totally abandoned all pretense of real work.  Or real life.  Or real anything.

I am the last person on the planet who has actual paperwork to deal with, and I just lit it on fire.
I stopped answering email.
I ate peanut butter out of the jar and let the laundry pile up.
I did not shower or brush my teeth.

When people asked me if I’d finished x or y or z.
I just screamed at them—MY BLOG!!!!
MY PEOPLE.
THEY EXIST.

And if they didn’t understand, I tried to convey my sheer, overwhelming joy, through interpretative dance.

Every single thing that I have ever failed to do has been rectified by the fact that 55,000 people shared me on Facebook.

If that doesn’t make sense to you, that’s fine.  But this is a blog about me.

A story about a giant Victorian mirror, Craigslist, how I started a blog and found my people...55k

The people I’ve been looking for ALL MY LIFE.

Actually exist.
They feel that they ARE me.
And I am them.

This is going in my file titled:  proof.

Proof of what exactly?  I don’t know.

Proof, which Paul points out is both unpaid, AND has me awake at three A.M.
Manic and clutching my phone to see if anyone else liked me on Facebook.

If YOU are one of the twenty-seven billion people on Facebook who have NOT liked me?
I don’t know why you would do that to yourself.

You can go ahead and fix that right now.

My story about a giant Victorian mirror, Craigslist, how I started a blog and found my people.

I spent the first three days swinging from the chandelier.  And throwing myself on the floor in delight.  And jumping up and doing it again.  Because with me, once is never enough.

All day, and all night, I hunched over my keyboard.  Rubbing my hands together and mumbling: come on baby.  Hit me.  Hit me.  Hit me.

Biting my nails that the highlight of my entire life was happening RIGHT NOW.
And trying to divide 55,000 Facebook shares into the scope of human existence.

By the fifth day. I was mostly sitting in a corner. Rocking back-and-forth and sobbing.
Because nothing this good will ever happen again.
Basically, my life is over.

Like if Christmas only came once in your entire life.
And after that, you had to live in a dark hole.

No matter HOW GOOD the presents were?
I don’t think anyone would be very excited about that.

I will love you EVEN MORE… if you share me with your friends. 

**once you subscribe, you have to look for a confirmation email… complicated, I know.