Sunday, October 6, 2013

Will Anything Blow Up If I Post This?

I am finally starting a blog. This is a sure sign that blogging is going out of fashion. I am not an early adapter. When I first heard of Hotmail, I thought it was a porn site. I still can’t move my music onto my new iPod because I’m afraid I’ll hit the wrong button and everything will vanish. I once had a computer blow up on me. Really. It could happen again.

I should have started a blog when we moved to Nepal in 2010, dragging along a reluctant teenager and giving up great jobs in Washington D.C. to Follow Our Dreams.

Me following my dreams:

Teenager following his dreams. Well, not really. That would be a picture of him at a computer screen with a plate full of nachos. But this is him anyway:

That would have been a logical time to start blogging. But my friend Lois Lane didn’t let me. I'm calling her Lois because I don’t know yet if I can edit blogs after they’re posted (yes, I’m that clueless), and I don’t have her permission to use her name. Lois has been a White House correspondent and rode on Air Force One with George Bush and Bill Clinton and doesn’t like blogging because it’s giving away your work for free. Which is true. So I listened to her, since she’s the kind of person you listen to. Except as it turns out, after three years in Nepal, I don’t have any work to give away anyway. And so I’m starting this blog by blaming Lois, because I have a teenager and I’ve learned a few lessons, such as that when you don’t do your work, come up with an excuse.

See how I've already dropped in some wonderfully searchable terms? Bill Clinton! George Bush! If you're a student writing a term paper, this is not the blog you are searching for. Go back. In fact, go back before you see the next picture. Here's what George does now. He has become an artist. Mostly he seems to paint his dogs, which is a worthy occupation. And then there's this one. 

George W. Bush in the shower, by George W. Bush:

Feel free to print it for your own shower. I will too, as soon as I can figure out 
how to get a picture of George into a Nepali shower. Like this one. 
Here's my husband, following his dreams: 

Anyway, back to this newborn blog. I thought of other titles. Exotic ones. Beautiful evocative ones that I can use for my imaginary-someday-clothing business if it ever happens. Titles that might not make people think I’m going to give exercise tips. (Hah. As if.)

But the sad truth is that I'm lazy. I live in Nepal, which is Officially Cool, so I ought to be doing yoga and meditation and hiking over Himalayan passes until I'm supple of body, shining of face and peaceful of mind. Nepal is full of incredible stories and experiences, and I do speak Nepali so I'm not actually clueless about what's going on around me. But I have not yet written My Amazing Insightful Book. I haven't even sent any tidbits to international news agencies, because (Mom of Teenager Excuse Alert!) I don't understand the virtual world of blogging and tweeting and whatever journalists do these days, plus they might make me write about Nepali politics and I'd go insane.

Follow this diagram to understand Nepali politics. Each staircase represents a party. Copy into hall of mirrors. Repeat until you reach The Shining Sustainable Ethnically Inclusive Future of The Democratic-With-No-Constitution-Yet Federal-With-No-Federal-States-Yet Republic of Nepal.

So don't ask me about Nepali politics. In our house, we have a division of labor. My husband keeps track of the politics, perhaps because he never got into football and its fulfills some deep-seated male need for watching people bash each other pointlessly. What I follow is the richness and absurdity and rabbit-hole complexity of life here in Nepal; the gulfs of misunderstanding that are sometimes funny and sometimes not so funny (aid projects, I’m looking at you); and important topics like The Need for Education Reform and Why South Asian Clothes Are Amazing and Why My Dog Needs a Facebook Page.

At any rate, you can tell I have quite a well-defined niche here. If you’ve logged onto this blog, you probably know me. Thank you. Encourage me to keep writing, and to write something sensible next time. It just might happen. Unless I take up yoga.