As some of you may have gathered in the comments’ sections I’ve decided to take a brief “blog sabbatical.” I won’t be gone completely. (I’m a junkie. Writing is my crack rock. And the computer is my dealer. I don’t know what that makes you guys? Enablers? Cause I would do this whether you were reading or not. It’s that deep. But you guys do make it seem less Unabomber-like.) I’ll still check up on the site and make occasional updates, but I’ve been a one-woman blog machine for more than three months now and I’m a tad burnt out.
I’ve dropped out from my blog-4-pay gig. (I couldn’t make it work with my other freelance work.) And my blog-obsession is probably unhealthy as … um … I probably need to clean … and … hmm … probably talk to people who know me in reality-land as opposed to virtual-land.
Unfortunately I won’t be able to quit the blog crack cold turkey as surprise o’ surprise I was recently invited to start writing the occasional entry for Huffington Post.
I’m hoping this will continue to open up some doors (like DailyKos did) and maybe some day I’ll open up a door with some money and health insurance behind it.
Keep your fingers crossed!
I’ll let you fellow snobs know when I’m supposed to pop up at HuffPo. Since I can’t blog under my doppelganger anymore after I start there I’m outing myself after a total six months running around with this “not” secret identity.
My name is Danielle C. Belton. I’m not really a “snob.” I’m more of a well-educated suburbanite with unruly hair. These pictures are a tad old (like two years maybe). My hair is much, much bigger now and thank sweet Jesus for headbands and scarves or no one would ever see my eyes again.
But I’ll totally get that fixed if I ever blow up. Get myself my own personal napologist.
Right after I get some vision and dental.
P.S. Um, I’ll be blogging sporadically for about a week. If I last that long. I swear. It’s so sick, I’m a fiend, but I promised my Canadian homie Moody that I wouldn’t die-via-blogging. That’s a lame-ass way to go. I want to either go spectacularly or of extremely old n’ happy age. You know two seconds after my husband Aaron McGruder sighs my name for the last time. And then we can be buried faced down so the whole world can kiss our … you know the rest.