I was going to write this whole post as a parody of the lyrics to the “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” theme song, but some things are just sacred, y’know?
I know that for the past month or two I’ve posted sporadically, or posted things that really made no sense to anyone but me, so thanks for hanging around. It’s time to come clean, and that’s a story that can only be told, as is the case with so many stories, through dance.
First, some underlying premises:
When I have the time and remember when it’s on, I watch So You Think You Can Dance. It’s relatively free of manufactured drama, and all the contestants are good at what they do and supportive of one another.
Typically, I get a little weepy when I watch it, and have to pretend I have something stuck in my eye so that no one (read: the dogs) will notice. You might think that tears are a natural reaction to listening to Mary Murphy’s speaking voice or realizing that people like Cat Deeley actually do exist in nature, but that’s not why I cried.
No, I cried because it hurt to watch these excited people getting a chance to do the exact thing they love, knowing that the next day I would have to drag myself back to a pretty thankless job that provided little satisfaction. A job I stayed at for EIGHT YEARS.
Tonight, I watched So You Think You Can Dance and didn’t cry. Okay, fine, I cried once because one of the routines was incredibly lovely, but that doesn’t count. Why didn’t I cry? Because I am now an excited person getting paid to do the exact thing that I love.
Remember when this happened, and then this? I am thrilled to report that in the battle of Remarkably Better vs. Stunningly Fantastic, Stunningly Fantastic has won the day: I can now proudly say that I’m a Story Wrangler at WordPress. Here’s a bit of what this means:
Basically, my job is to help you blog: to provide tools and tips, to inspire, and to shine a light on your great work. Which means I can potentially help someone else find fulfillment or meet a life goal through their blog the way I have with mine, which: bingo! And my yoga pants and Birkenstocks are now totally work-appropriate. In fact, the yoga pants covered in the lesser quantity of dog hair are now my fancy-dress yoga pants.
I’m going to ease back into being here over the next week or two. And while I will still deploy salty language, I have a feeling I’ll be noticeably less angry. (Well, except about conservative Republicans, because there’s really nothing to be done for that.) I’ll also be posting random snippets and photos over at my new site, King of States!.
By the way: all that stuff I said in those other posts about being grateful to you all for helping get me to this place? Still totally true. I might actually let each of you get to home base.
PS: We’re hiring!
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