Brainchild

Anyone wanna venture a guess as to what this week is?

National Breastfeeding Week?  No, that was last week.  National Scrabble Week?  Actually, yes it IS National Scrabble Week!  But while that surely deserves its own post, that's not what we're talking about today.

No, today we are talking about a week you probably thought you'd forgotten about.  A week as fundamental to your being as International Whistlers Week, or Bread Pudding Recipe Exchange Week.  A week that has ruined you for all other weeks.

It's NaBloSoFroDraWe!!!!!!!!!!

That's, uh, National Blog Something From Draft Week for you newbies, or those of you who don't have photographic recollection of a made-up blog holiday you might have read about once or twice, long ago.  (I'm thinking about shortening the name to make it easier to remember, since even I have trouble keeping the abbreviation straight.  NaBlo and FroDra are my two best ideas thusfar.  What do you think?)

The brainchild of wannabe-seminal-blogger Bone back in 2008, NaBloSoFroDraWe is the perfect cure for what ails ye bloggers during these dog (and often blog-less) days of summer.  Don't have any ideas for a post?  No worries!  Just reach back into your drafts, pull something out, then copy and paste for all the world to read.

Perhaps it's something you started but never finished.  Now you don't have to finish it!  Just click and post.  Maybe it's a personal post you're afraid could cause a schism between you and a family member.  Well, chances are you're gonna have a falling out someday anyway, so why prolong the inevitable?  Just. Hit. Publish.

In previous years, it has been brought to my attention that some bloggers don't have anything in draft.  As someone who has 111 things in draft, that seems like a foreign concept to me, but I can respect it.

This holiday is for the rest of us.  Those of us who thought we were ready to post something but once we stepped up to the blog urinal and saw all those people standing around, we got a little stage fright and couldn't quite pull the trigger.  It happens.  But today is the day to shed those blog inhibitions and just let it go.

(You had to know someday I would manage to work in a writing/urinal analogy.  I'm only surprised it took me this long.)

Still, some will say, and even I have said, posts that are in draft are in draft for a reason.  Well, as the always eloquent Biz Markie once pontificated, "Don't give me that.  Don't even give me that."

Besides, remember our slogan: "Someday we'll look back on this and cringe."

For those who might be interested, I dug into my drafts and posted something over at Poetry Wrecks.  You know, since it somewhat resembles a poem.  And also because I haven't posted over there since early spring.

Later, we may analyze why suddenly my blog has become all about obscure holidays and asking questions which I pretend someone else is answering.  Or... we may not.

And hopefully I won't have any more brainchildren, at least not for awhile.

"Shake it out, shake it out / Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa /  And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back / So shake him off..."

NaBloSoFroDraWe 2011

It's that time of the year again. Time for the week you thought you'd forgotten about, but someone just won't let you. Time for the blogging project that has ruined you for all other blogging projects.

It's National Blog Something From Draft Week!

Begun in 2008, NaBloSoFroDraWe (also known as NaBloSoThaDraWe) encourages bloggers everywhere to select something they've written in the past, but for whatever reason never posted, and finally share it with the world.

It's kinda like getting back together with an ex. You completely ignore all the reasons things didn't work out in the first place, close your eyes, and hope for the best! And that always works out, right?

I like to think of NaBloSoFroDraWe like this: Less travel than BlogHer, less writing than NaNoWriMo.

NaBloSoFroDraWe is a mystery only in its inexplicable lack of popularity. I know I was baffled when reading over the list of obscure holidays for August 10th this morning and saw that Duran Duran Appreciation Day was cited, but not NaBloSoFroDraWe. And this from a guy who likely has more appreciation for Duran Duran than any other 38-year-old heterosexual male you know.

So come on, bloggers. Time to dig out that post you never quite finished, or thought was too personal, or just really wasn't very interesting, and let it see the light of day! And remember our slogan: "Some day we'll look back on this and cringe."

For now, here is my entry for NaBloSoFroDraWe '11. It's something I wrote in 2009, about a dream I had. I have fought and defeated every urge to edit it. And believe me, there were plenty.


CLOUD NINE

I was on cloud nine that day. My mind, a glorious confusion of thoughts and emotions. The prevailing question was how did this happen.

I remembered very clearly and precisely when I first clasped your hand in mine -- both our hands shaking so slightly but the feeling of now that we'd gotten this far not wanting to let go. Then at some point we kissed. The rest was a blur. But it did not matter. For when one is on cloud nine, one does not question how one arrived there. One simply enjoys the all-too-brief stay.

Someone called my name from a bench on the sidewalk. I did not recognize the fellow, but he asked if I wanted to go into a nearby pub for a drink. Since I had just realized that although I was walking, I had no idea where I was going, I accepted.

We sat there for ten or twenty-five minutes, him rambling on like we were long lost friends, me pretending to know who he was but never figuring it out. Then he spilled his drink and got into a shouting match with some lady I had seen there before but did not know her name, and I left.

Back out on the street, I still had no idea where I was going. I was just walking, and thinking, and smiling. Wondering when I'd see you again.

"It gets worse once we get to her room. She stops and she sings, doot do doo do do doo do doo. I claim New Religion is my song. Ah, she doesn't get it. It's all before she was born..."