A Lovely Blog Award. Then I put “blog” and “award” together to form one word and it became BLOGAWARD. If that were ever to be a word, I’d nominate its creation.
Anyways. That’s what this post was supposed to be about. A Lovely Blog Award.
I wanted to nominate someone, but I couldn’t find The Great Big Lovely Blog Award Headquarters anywhere online and I am so exhausted after my 15-hour migraine that I just gave up. I don’t even know if there’s a prize, or how it works. I think you have to thank people and then tell about yourself and mention like 47 other bloggers. At the risk of my migraine coming back, I stopped investigating.
Doesn’t anyone else out there with chronic illness suffer from this? It’s called my-blog-could-be-so-much-better-and-I-could-do-this-for-a-living-but-I-just-found-myself-at-the-bottom-of-the-stairs-so-thisisthebestIcando-itis. “Itis” meaning inflammation. Of anything.
I’ve spent a few hours today browsing through polished, clean-cut, Nobel-prize worthy blogs framed with membership pins, awards, and accolades. Professional caliber websites with crisp, clean pictures featuring en pointe branding and advertising. Custom made designs and logos. How do they do it? Well, if I were to nominate someone within the chronic illness community, it would have to be
Sheryl Chan, Author of A Chronic Voice: Articulating lifelong illness
I think it would take me ten years to develop something of that caliber. Now, I’m not officially nominating her, but I’m officially recognizing her. If I knew how to do that officially, I would have done it by now.
She has book reviews, cute external links to deep thoughts on Twitter, in-depth articles that portray perfectly what chronic illness is like – from an inside perspective. Her audience could be the chronic illness sufferer, a casual reader, the medical professional, screenwriters or web design students.
I think she also might be a model.
Well, she should win an award of some sort. That, I do know.
I think then the nominator or the nominee or their pet describes a number of things about themselves or something and the rest I’ve already completely forgotten. Well I know that’s not how it works but here are 10 facts about me that you may or may not want to know. Don’t want to know? Tough nuts. Deez nuts. I’m nuts.
TEN FACTS ABOUT ME
- I didn’t know how to tell time until I was 13 when I learned to tell time in French.
- I like big butts and I cannot lie.
- Sadly, my parents chained me to a very large rock and only allowed me to wander out into the garden to forage for vegetables during mealtimes, and kept me in a cage so I could do homework, never have fun, or get pregnant.
- I never did get pregnant. Like, ever.
- Every night I dream about my teeth falling out.
- I never wear underwear. I feel underwear is extraneous.
- I have had chronic fatigue syndrome and non-focal motor seizures for 27 years.
- I’ve never held a handgun.
- I wanna hold a Koala bear.
- I caught one fish in my whole life. It was a small rainbow trout that I knocked out. While it was swimming. While I was trying to “skip rocks” using a bolt. It tasted good.
So, this blog was supposed to be about me trying to figure out how to nominate a favorite blogger. I got SUPER sidetracked and decided to make my own “thing.” I don’t know what The Blogword Academy For Exceptional Thought offers, or where I should build, but it’s a start.
Why the kitten? Well, if I were to give out a Blogword Academy Thought Award it would go to someone who is:
- alone, and I mean ALONE. Your ass is so alone they have to fly in supplies.
- sitting in twilight and fog
- underfunded, tired, and hungry
- the black sheep of the family (see what I did there with the black cat?)
- can write well (ok well that has nothing to do with the cat but if a cat can write at all that is truly exceptional so the cat is back in)
- of any age
- is off-balance (and whose blogging reflects same)
- full of humor, promise, and potential.
What would the award be? That’s a really tough one. Money usually works. But none of this “$150 towards the small endangered species of fish charity of choice” shit. No offense to small endangered species of fish. No, I’d give out an award like at least ten bills. Directly to that person. To spend on frivolous things like food, shelter, Adobe Photoshop, and opioids. And I’d print it out on one of those humongous cardboard cheques, cover it with glitter, and then laugh at the thought of how they’d carry that check home and the big sparkly mess they’d leave at the bank.
Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most. And large cheques. They are hysterical.