“How long do you think before there are other things on the blog web, other Chronicles?” the director asked me. I was staring down into my bowl of soup – I save my introspective moments for when the children have left for the day, or are sleeping. Children don’t deserve to have to wonder why someone is staring into space. Or the bottom of alphabet soup. Should be called Alphabet Mush. I thought.
“The blog web?” I considered making a joke about running that through my ‘old person translator mechanism-machinery’, but thought better of it.
“Where people have their blogs. I think people are going to start copying you and making other titles with the word ‘Chronicles’ because you know, it sounds really good.” I pulled a part of my hair perennially sticking out from my well-intentioned ponytail. “Like the way the moms copy the way you dress,” she continued, moving gallons of finger paint into the shelving. The outside world has no idea how much finger paint our school goes through in a given period of time – a month, say.
“It makes me uncomfortable,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say, because it did, because it does.