In Which I Decide Not to Stop Blogging

February 6, 2014 — 172 Comments

never-give-up (1)


“Write what you know…”

What DON’T I know? My brain is an encyclopedia of everything I’ve ever encountered.


I know music.

Not just to listen to, to live to. I’ll talk vinyl vs digital.  Rock vs Bach.

I know music facts.

Facts that lived inside dusty leather bound volumes of Creem and Rolling Stone; vintage issues at the library on lazy Saturday afternoons.

I know the dates Jimi, Janis and Jim died, what American Pie is, and Keith Richard’s favorite drink. And yes, he really did have his blood cleansed of heroin at a clinic in Switzerland. By a dialysis machine.


I know theater. I’ve seen plays and read them, more than I can count. I’ve read all 36 plays in Shakespeare’s canon. I’ve seen most of them performed, too.


I know film.  I see everything. I’m an Oscar geek. I can tell you which actor has been nominated for best actor most (Jack Nicholson), who’s won for best actress most (Katherine Hepburn) and who’s been nominated 7 times but never won (Richard Burton).


I know food.  I know how to cook really well, and for a large group.

I know entertaining. I know how to set a beautiful table. I’m Martha Stewart, the leather version.
Totally incongruous with the rest of my personality, but true, nonetheless.
I set my table for holidays a day in advance. Sometimes two.

I know baking, which is in my opinion, a dying art.
Not enough people bake from scratch anymore, but if you do, I can tell you the perfect flour to use for the perfect pie crust.
And I’ll give you my best cookie recipes because even though I’m Jewish I spend an entire weekend baking Christmas cookies every year.


I know poverty. I know how it feels to have your toes press against the inside of your shoe, and not say anything because there’s 6 of you.
And never enough to go around.

I know wealth. I know flying first class to California and Europe; five star hotels, five star restaurants.
I know limos and champagne and things I have no right even saying I know, so I’ll just stop right here.


I know New York. I know it like you know a lover’s body, familiar and built for pleasure and you want to live there forever.


I know Ebonics and Spanglish. You can’t live in New York and not learn a little of both. Although truth be told, the Spanglish was more from all the Puerto Rican men I dated; they hiss at you in bed:

“ay, mami,
chupa mi pinga, mi puta blanca!”


And yes, while I’m on the subject, I know blowjobs.
But I’m only mentioning it because I’ve already blogged about it.
And because now my real life girlfriends are following me, and if I don’t give it a hey now, they’ll be all like, “what’s up with that? She’s all ABOUT smokin’ it.”


I know teenagers.

I know them better than you do, and I feel bad that I know what your kids are up to and you don’t but I’ll never tell.
I know rainbow parties and ABC parties and hooking up and “Turn Up!”

I know why you should let your daughter go to Wildwood after prom.
She hasn’t been a virgin since the 10th grade. Why don’t you just be sensible and put her on birth control?

Just don’t tell your husband.

I know…hes not ready for that.

I know what my teens have taught me.
I know they feel alienated and misunderstood by their parents. Which makes me want to be a different sort of mother.

I know how the education system has failed them. I know I desperately want to change that.

I don’t know how.


I know some famous people.

Mostly rock musicians, and mostly from doing drugs with them..
That’s all I’m going to say about that. But it had to be said.
Because it was all part of a big goddamn party I was invited to. And even though the party is way over, I’m glad I went.


I know books.
It’s the most passionate, enduring love affair I’ve ever had. It’s over 35 years since I fell in love with “A Wrinkle in Time.”
Quantum physics, witches, the timeless story of Good vs Evil, a bodiless telepathic brain, all mixed together in a mind bending story where I KNEW I was Meg, the protagonist, the outcast.
I was a fool for book love.
And never the same again.

And because of books, I know philosophers. And feminism. And history. And wicca. And architecture. And how all of those are connected, which they are.


I know drugs. So does everybody. Next.


I know addiction. Not addiction as partying. I know addiction as survival; addiction as coping.

I know recovery. Or really, just kicking stone cold turkey. No rehab. No detox. No money.
It took three grown men to hold me inside my apartment while I kicked dope.
It’s like a mother holding a car up to save her baby. You have the strength of a demon.


I know shooting galleries.

The kind you get raped in on Avenue D, but also

the kind you go to with your kid’s friend’s dad. Because, why not? Shooting guns sounded like a cool way to spend an afternoon.

It is.


I know sports.

Not organized sports, although I know I superbowl game when I don’t see one, and I’m glad the halftime show was at least a springboard to teach Little Dude some Peppers,

and there is that Yankees tramp stamp but girl, that’s a Bronx thing. Not a baseball thing.

I mean, I know athleticism. I know the sheer joy of the sweat, the burn,the endorphins, the high.
From lifting, or cycling, or hiking or yoga.

I know the bliss of a Low Lunge into a perfect Warrior Three. It feels like dance and mysticism all mixed together, especially with that trippy Indian music in the background.
Namaste, bitches.


I know fashion – or rather, style. Fashion is prepackaged. Style I invent. I take what’s left and make it right.
And when that obnoxious kid in the mall points at a woman and says,
“Just because she can FIT in those clothes doesn’t mean she should be WEARING them. Ugh.”

it’s ME she’s talking about.

And I know – I don’t give a fuck.


I know math. I know geometry which is useless, unless you’re a professional quilter.
And algebra. And I know averages and ratios and logic problems and calculus.
And percentages. And James Altucher is right – I’ve been saying that for years. If you don’t know at least percentages, you’re screwed.

I know I love math. I have a shirt that a student made for me “I love math.” I rarely wear it. It irritates people.

I know why.


I know LOVE.

I know love so hard that other people’s love paled in comparison.
We had a blue glow around us all the time, like moonlight. Even in the daytime.


I know loss of love. I know I’m on emotional lock down. I know I’m done with the kind of love I just described.
I know “Happy Ever After” really is just a fairy tale.


I know Death.

Too much and too close. AIDS, cancer, suicide, heart attacks.

Sometimes, I feel like I know death a little too personally, and that’s why I took some of the chances I did.
Come and get me.


I know friendship. unbelievable friendships. Friendship that have lasted over decades, and thousands of miles.

Fierce friendships. I love fiercely and am loved fiercely back.
I have friends who would literally give me the shirts off their backs.
She’s reading this, right now.


I know betrayal.

I know finding your life savings wiped out, your credit cards maxed out, your signature forged on loans you didn’t know existed.

I know being told lies. By people who abandon you when you need them most. When all hope is gone.
When you’re desperate to find one friend left you can trust.


I know depression.
I know post partum depression so severe I wanted to drown my own child.

And I crossed to the other side to a love so deep, I’m the one drowning now.


I know fear.

A fear that made me almost stop writing these words.

Until I realized that to stop these words

would make me lose MYSELF

because to write –

is to breathe.


“Write what you know”

I know Truth.

I know Courage.

I know Words.

I know


For a Jew I bake some mean-ass Christmas cookies

For a Jew I bake some bad ass Christmas cookies

Did you ever stop blogging? Or think about quitting? 

Talk to me. I’m listening. 

Enhanced by Zemanta

172 responses to In Which I Decide Not to Stop Blogging


    Lush life. Thanks for sharing, I’m breathless.


    I almost stopped blogging at the beginning of the year. Then I considered changing names/platforms/etc. Or making a private blog. Or password protecting every post.

    Then I said fuck it all and carried on, even putting my face to my words finally. Will I still feel like this in a week, or month? IDK but I’ll keep writing until then.

    I am glad you are here and staying. Certainly there are things we don’t have in common (I’ve never flown, much less first class), yet there are so many things that we do. It’s good to not be alone in this virtual world.


      I almost ran.

      Then I put my mouse helmet on and decided to keep running for the cheese.

      I’m an idiot. But what choice do I have? Right, sister?


        Well, we can be idiots together, if we can even be called that. Different reasons, same end result.

        I had planned to delete everything, blog, gmail, Twitter and Facebook, by the end of January. February 1st, I would no longer exist online.

        Then I realized, if I don’t put the words here, I have no other place to put them. Then they stay inside and…well, we know how that turns out. My story is already here and I can’t keep reliving it every damn time I go to type a new intro or about page. Now I am taking it pretty much a month at a time.

        You know where to find me if you ever need me ((hugs)) to you, chica.


        Some of my best real life girlfriends call me Chica.

        So weird that you do, to. Just pure coincidence.

        Except, nothing ever is.


    I did think about quitting, Samara. Back when the platform jak and I were using was Vox, I considered pulling my blog down and walking away. Never looking back. I’m so glad I didn’t do that. I’m not sure I’d ever have had the pleasure of talking with you.


    You know…. what I’m going to say? 😉
    I’m glad you know Publish. Thanks for continuing to share your wonderful words with us.


      Dearest friend-
      You’re one of the very reasons I do.

      Okay – here it comes – wait for it-

      Big bloggy love. Coming at you!!


        Hooray for big bloggy love! I’ve got a huge grin going, ear to ear, right now. Kind of like this: 😀
        And, right back at ya!


        I know you love the big bloggy love!

        And I know you’re happy when I’m happy! Are we going to start singing Kumbaya now? (I’m sorry, I had to throw in snark, X crowned me the Queen of Snark and I have to live up to my title)

        I’m smiling too, for the first time in a WEEK!

        This is like a bi-coastal cyber smile!

        Blogging rocks!


        Breaking weather news: a bi-coastal cyber smile has been spotted. While a rare phenomenon, it isn’t dangerous, and should be enjoyed by all.
        I love snark. Bring it. 😉
        Also, there will be no Kumbaya singing… though, I’ll happily sing some Stones, or Zeppelin, …or Springsteen. This Hard Land?


        You’re a Springsteen fan?

        Dude, I LIVE in the land of Springsteen. People live and die for him in New Jersey. Especially in my area.

        Stones and Zeppelin kick ass. Any thoughts on The Who? And please not, Dr. Who. The Who. Tommy.


        Teenage Wasteland, Behind Blue Eyes, I Can See for Miles and Miles, and, of course… Tommy, Pinball Wizard, et al.
        What really, really, really sells The Who for me, above their awesome music, above Pete Townsend and his windmill, is that Roger Daltry was a regular guest star on the TV series Highlander… awesomesauce.
        Also, yes, Springsteen is the boss for a reason. He’s definitely in my top five. Though, I prefer his e-street band stuff to his solo work. And I will forever have a hole in my heart that I never saw them live before Clarence died.


        Baba O’Reilly – NOT Teenage Wasteland.

        I’ll let you slide on that one. But Matticus, love. Little Dude knows that.

        Was he really on Highlander? Oh, snap. That I didn’t know. You got me.

        Clarence was such a loss. I’m verklempt now. That’s Yiddish for “death sucks.”


        Death sucks. I agree
        What you have to consider now, is that I knew Baba O’Reilly and said Teenage Wasteland anyway. 😉
        For edification purposes:
        Also, it should be pointed out, that is already probably known, that Steven Van Zandt (from the e street band) played one of Tony’s right hand guys in the HBO Series The Sopranos.


        The Steven Van Zandt bit I knew, I don’t live under a rock, I watched a Sopranos or two.

        I live in New Jersey. I had to, just to know what I was dealing with.

        But I love me a Wikipedia link. I love all things wikipedia. Me and Little Dude spend way too much time on it.

        Some times, the pictures are not…appropriate. But you don’t know that til you click. Just letting you know that, for when the Little Prince is older.


        Yes, thanks for the warning. And, yes, I was fairly certain you knew about the Van Zandts/Sopranos connection. Though, I have heard good thing about living under rocks… good temperature moderation: never too hot or too cold.




        They do look pretty good.
        But, The Queen bakes Christmas Cookies too. Lots of them. Something like 20 dozen or so, in a dozen different varieties. She does this, because that’s what her family has always done. And then she remembers that there are just the two of us (sadly, no cookies for the Little Prince yet), and we have to eat them all. Of course, we throw them in the freezer and pull some out a little at a time… but, we continue to do that all year. There is a never ending supply of cookies. Frankly… I’m cookied out. Now, if you had some cake…


        1. I MUST have her best recipes. But only the best ones. The T&T, we call them. Tried and True.

        2. Hell, YES I do cake. Every year, Little Dude gets a theme cake. Spiderman, Spongebob, Karate. One year I built him an entire WWE wresting ring.

        Can I post pics in the comment section?

        I’m such an attention whore…


        There is a way to post pictures in comments. I have no idea how to do it though. Because I suck at the internet.


        You do NOT suck at the internet-
        maybe at posting pictures in the comments section.

        But at blogging on the internet?

        The Interwebs? as some refer to it?

        You are a SUPERSTAR.

        Hmmmm. I’m thinking of renaming my blog.

        Got any ideas???


        Why don’t you just go with something simple, like “Samara Speaks?” Or, you could do something like: “Samara, the unrated version.” Since the blog is an extension of you, it makes sense to affix your name to it… Thoughts?


        I might go with one of my latest emailed suggestions, but that cannot be written in the comments section.


    That’s a kick ass laundry list. The cool, crazy and kind stains of life that Tide can’t wash away. The cool, crazy and kind stuff that only a life lived to full capacity and reflected upon can’t be stored away for good like a museum piece. The cool, crazy and kind stuff that staying true to one’s self can only produce, even when staying true to one’s self is painful.

    Standing up and falling down and taking selfies all along the journey is just part of what we do, isn’t it? Aren’t these blogs just selfies in written form? Strip away the vanity and when we snap those photos / strike that keyboard, we are showing our authentic self, yeah? At least, that is what I think. I could be wrong. But like selfies, the can last as long as we want them to. We can share them as much as we want them to. throw them onto the internet fridge and see what sticks. Or place them in digital photo albums near the files labelled “to be determined”.

    You write what you know, and it’s all about writing from where you’re at, not where you want to be at. Where you’re at, digging from the past too. And it shows, doesn’t it? At least from this peanut gallery seat it does.

    I have my primary blog that I almost tore down. Thankfully, good folks and timely contemplation kept me from doing so. It’s been a blessing. I have a newer second one that I am going to delete as soon as today, methinks. Nonetheless, we live to write and write to live. Something always pops up. New avenues appear where there was once a brick wall.

    There’s grit and glam here, my friend.

    Keep writing. Shine on.



    Samara, would you mind being one of the sponsors for my fictional beauty pageant over at Cimmy’s Stories? I need someone who knows a thing or two about… stuff. If so, just hop on over to Cimmy’s Stories and click the pageant’s Sponsor’s Page.


      I’ll take a look.

      I don’t know how much I know about pageants. It wasn’t in the post.

      That I don’t know. I wasn’t a pageant kid.

      I was a fucking mathlete. A spelling bee champ. A total NERD. Not a pageant kid.

      I wore boys underwear, for fuck’s sake, hahahahaha


    Bo knows…more than you.

    Don’t ever quit Samara. Keep on chugging along. Fuck the haters.


    You kind of sort of rock, you know that?


      Actually, Don, you freaking handsome bad ass,
      you do.


        Handsome….now I wonder if you’ve been hittin’ the hooch! Do you even drink anymore? I forget. All I remember from Shakespeare is that Iago is one of my favorite villains and beast with two backs is still something I say as often as I can.


        Everytime I call you handsome you question whether I’ve been drinking. It’s only 5:30 where I live and PLUS I DON’T DRINK.

        To whom do you say “beast with two backs?” Your kids? “Clean your room, you beast with two backs!”

        My girlfriend (who’s reading this post now) actually has managed to use “tits and a quim” in everyday speech. Now that’s literary.


    “If you don’t know at least percentages, you’re screwed.” Well… I wish you’d mentioned this to me before Samara…


    For the very first time in my life, Samara, I am saying to myself:

    Damn. I really like this know-it-all.

    You ride the ups and survive the downs and come out of it fierce. Oh, so fierce. Like a tenacious poet.

    As far as ending the write stuff:

    When big business told me a year ago that I no longer had my journalism job of 30 years, I started my blog. I co-wrote a book. I found two places to pay me to write blogs for them. And I am still seeking a full-time job where I can continue writing as a career.

    Some people just gotta … you know already what I’m going to say … Write On!


    Then write it. All of it.
    Whether or not someone reads it is irrelevant.
    (But it’s nice when they do.)

    One day, I’ll just pack in the blog and move on. Almost did a couple of times, but mostly it’s too much fun to not keep doing. And every so often, I get to write something I’m proud of.


    Lil Dude and your kids are truly blessed! And so are we all! I, for one, am most pleased that you were willing to don your helmet again, it is hard not to leave it all behind sometimes. Yours is a prodigious talent, Samara, thank you for knowing. Love Loyalty Honour and Respect RED


      Red, love,
      You’re my Guardian Angel of the Blogosphere!

      I almost stopped. But don’t we all, sometimes? Didn’t you, for a little bit?



        Yeah, I think I did stop but because I never telegraph my next move no one really knew and then when I came full circle it looked like I’d just had a bit of a break and then picked up where I left off. In fact, if I recall rightly, you were one of the main influences for my returning. But, honestly, I would happily stop tomorrow if “I had to choose between us. I love your shit!


        I love that you credit me with being one of your influences with returning to writing.

        Because you have a unique style and perspective the likes of which I’ve not read anywhere –

        And you’d better not ever stop. There’s no reason to choose.

        I love your shit. So there.

        Keep riding and writing.


    I’m lying in bed, my legs spent. The gizmo on my bike reads 120 miles. Cold rain & a biting head wind for the last 25 mi!es. I was trying to get away…from a lot of things.

    I identify with so many of the things you say Samara…

    My grandmother used to read the dictionary as some would read a novel, learning the twists and turns and tales of the language that defines so many.

    I’m dyslexic, at the age of 11 an English teacher stood me on a classroom desk proclaiming me to be the worst speller he had ever met. As I looked upset he offered me more of his words of wisdom “…reading is the only solution to your ineptitude…” I went home and read, starting with Dickens I moved to Dumas, Poe, a 12 volume set history of WW1, poetry…anything and everything then later A Solzhenitsyn, Robert M Persig., Homer, Aristotle, Plato, Walt Whitman..I devoured whatever book I could find. But I still can’t spell…towers of books surround me

    And I can’t blog. What’s in my head doesn’t form or take life in the small black floating digits…

    And for the record, my daughter 16…she’s on the pill

    Brilliant blog Samara


      Nice looking biscuits by the way


      You write beautifully. I don’t ever recall a spelling error. And your comments are like poetry.

      If I wasn’t so selfish and self absorbed, I’d visit your blog more regularly. I love the way you write.

      You’re a Cool Dad. Bless your heart. At least you won’t get stuck supporting unwanted grandchildren.


        Isn’t spell check brilliant!

        You are…you…inspirational…resolute…indefatigable

        Thank you


        Thank YOU.

        Now, if only one high school student know the meaning of any one of those words,

        I’d die a happy woman.

        But Kit, They. Don’t. Read.

        Except, maybe your daughter does? Because you do?


        Both my girls read…D1 took herself off to bed to read Steinbeck’s Sweet Thursday tonight. Neither kid would ever admit to doing something because I do it…& that’s as it should be I recon.

        Can’t imagine not reading. Seriously, I’d be better at holding my breath than…

        Do you have warm hands? Do you bake bread?


        I do and I do.

        Baking bread is one of life’s great joys. However, if the temperature of the room is off, everything gets ruined. Nothing rises the way it really should.


        So true so true in so much of life tis so

        Good strong flour a vigorous yeast knowledgeable hands…and a warm room…am I still thinking about bread…who knows

        You have inspired me…fresh bread in the morning



        I hope you’re talking about bread.


        Lol…definitely… self raising flour just isn’t the same… I’ll get my coat


        You have me thinking, never a good thing – Good writers connect, make a difference, move, inspire, are dream makers and shakers…of habit’s. The reality of the happiness they effect happens when shared – Sometimes small thoughts make a big difference, but they have to be shared…don’t they?


        I didn’t share mine for a long time. And I felt empty inside.

        Now, I’m so grateful that people like you read my work. It’s a gift I never stop being grateful for.


    Staggering, soulful post.
    Life full to the brim.
    Rock on.


      Thank you so much, for stopping by, for reading, for commenting.

      Welcome to the craziness that is MY BLOG.

      You can have a cookie, or some cheese. If you beat the mouse.

      My life now is more sedate. I raise a 10 year old in the suburbs. But damn, I had a good time, didn’t I?


        Any wine? Red wine? I’ll take that.
        When raising kids in the suburbs, it helps to have lived lots. For them too – makes you a cool mom.


        I’m the original Cool Mom. For now.
        Once my kid’s in middle school, I’ll probably be “that asshole.”

        No wine, but I’ll stock up on red if you’ll come visit.



    I don’t plan on stopping. But it’s easier for me to go on, because I don’t pour my soul into my writing like you do.


      You pour a whole lot of something in there, because I can’t even wrap my brain around some of the stuff you right.

      And I don’t consider stopping because of the content.

      It’s because I’m a Tortured Soul. *sigh*


        Then you should also add that you know torture.
        P.s. And those cookies look pretty good. I feel like I’m gaining weight just by looking at that picture.
        P.P.S. Math rules.


        I LOVE MATH!!

        I’m a total math nerd. Do you have a numbers related job?

        I will sometimes mail cookies to people who are really really nice to me and I absolutely mean that, provided they remind me at Christmas time and don’t live in New Zealand.


        I stare at numbers and spreadsheets all day and I love it. My only objection is that my job takes too much time from other things I like to do – sleep, blogging, friends, traveling…
        You’re still trying to find out who I am and where I live, aren’t you? 🙂 But honestly, I’d really like to try them, even if I don’t celebrate Christmas, either.


        NO. I’m not trying to, I swear.

        I just dig guys with numbers jobs. It’s a weird fetish.


        Sorry, maybe I’m just too paranoid. I think numbers did that to me 🙂


        The CIA tapping your phone did that to you.


    You try to connect with your passion and to be honest, so many are here to talk about themselves, except they use other people’s passion and you still do not know them. So keep it up girl and take it as it comes. Larry


    Such a beautifully written peak into what sounds like an amazing and full life. I’m glad you didn’t stop blogging.


      Thank you so much for stopping by. Have a cookie.

      It has been amazing. It is very full. I am still blogging.

      At the moment, my 10 year old son is showing me a tissue full of boogers. What a goddamn party over here!!

      Just a different sort of party. Hahahaha


    Where do I obtain your Christmas cookies? They look scrumptulescent!!

    It would be a sad day for me if you stopped blogging. Please don’t stop.


      If you’re very nice to me, and remain on Santa’s “Nice” list,
      you get them in the mail. Do you live in the US?

      I won’t stop. I just keep threatening to.

      It’s because I’m a Tortured Soul. And sometimes a big scaredy cat.

      But I got my helmet on -like in the picture – cool, right?


        Sometimes threatening to quit something is the best way to realize how much you need it 🙂

        And yes! I live in South Carolina. I’ll have to be extra good this year!


    There’s so much more to this post, but I can’t get over the fact that you made those cookies. 🙂

    I love what you know, and that you’re the one who holds all those different pieces together with love. I can’t wait to learn all that you’re willing to share about each of those topics. 🙂


    “ay, mamí, chupa mi pinga, mi puta blanca!”

    Ay chihuahua. Verga is the word they use here, but it’s probably a mexicano thing, sabes?

    For a Jew I bake some bad ass Christmas cookies

    Yo’ a bad mama jama, serious… I am so hungry right now that if they were real, I’d be devouring them as fast as I can. (PEOPLE, IT’S A HIGH-RES PIC! YOU VIEW IT FULL SIZE, AND … OM NOM NOM NOM even our daughter couldn’t stand to look at them, and she’s TOTALLY hungry now too) I told you that Cimmy’s made some delicious challah bread, haven’t I? She did that for me one year for a co-worker.


    I’ve quit so many times over the years that I’ve lost count. Various reasons. Writer’s block. Too much of the wrong king of attention. Not enough of the right kind. I’ve stopped with a sincere resolve to never blog again. But I always go back. It truly is an addiction. I’ll compose a paragraph on the subway. Take a pic in Central Park and think to myself, “Well…what are you going to do with THAT? Your not going to post it on your BLOG are you?! And then I do.


    “Chupa mi pinga, mi puta blanca?” Not exactly a class act, was he?

    Also I’m routinely creeped out when couples refer to each other as “mommy” or “daddy” in a sexual context.


      Well, if you understood the Latin culture, you would know that

      “Chupa mi pinga, mi puta blanca”

      Is like asking me to go shopping at Tiffanys.

      And “Daddy,” in the proper context is NOT creepy at all.

      Well, it would be for you, because you’re very young, so a girl would have to be, like, 12, to call you that. That is creepy.


    DAMN! Them are some coookies! As a baker of Christmas cookies, I must tip my hat to you. I ate one, btw. Actually two. Okay TEN.

    You know a lot. I would TOTALLY pick you as my Trivial Pursuit partner. I envy the plays you’ve seen. I should make a point to go to the theater more often. I love theater. It’s so fucking tangible in a way no other art form is, other than maybe live music.

    I’m happy you’re staying around. You have a unique voice. You belong here. And plus, you have to, it’s how you breathe.


    Samara, thank you for NOT stopping the blogging. You better not! And those cookies look scrumptious. I want some NOW! You know a lot about a lot of things. You’ll never run out of ideas. I have almost stopped myself and I’ve been trying to get a new blog going. Something entirely different, because it’s good to change it up every now and then. Soon, soon, I will get it together!! I love this post. You are so full of fire and passion. I feel it coming out of your fingertips as you typed this. xox


      Amy, you are too kind.

      I felt the fire today.

      And some days, all I have at my fingertips is a tissue wiping the boogers off my kid’s face.

      You feel me?


    Like the commenter above, I thank you for not stopping – I love your writing. 🙂


    I’ve thought of quitting over mental illness, but decided to keep on blogging BECAUSE of it rather, and I’m glad I did. Samara. Don’t ever stop blogging. I’m in absolute LOVE with your words.


      Mental illness is in my family, depression is in me, and it sometimes stops my blogging. Dead. Cold.

      I was a zombie for a week. Because of a trigger. And then this post came rushing out. The post after the depression.

      I’m in love with you, Nadia. Did that just get weird?


    I almost stop blogging about every week. Don’t really have anything more to say but somehow I just keep writing. Looks like you’ve got more than a years worth of post writing about everything listed above. I’m glad you stayed because I like reading your words.


      We stop, we start, and then we stop and start again.

      Like everything in life.

      Thanks for reading, for commenting, for telling me you like my words, Sreejit. I’m so grateful that you do.


    Please, please,please don’t stop blogging. You are the person that inspired me to write here on WP. That whole thing with dating Spanish guys “Chupa mi pinga, mi puta blanca”
    It’s just their way of saying ” My little slut, whore, blogger” . Great sexual term of endearment however like Matt said, in a sexual content it goes beyond the girl calling the man Daddy. It’s a bit weird. Thanks for the cookies they look scrumptious, and you cook too. What a catch you are. Your ex must have been a real winner to become your ex. I would have made sure we were solid just for the baking. Didn’t you say in a blog that Little Dude thinks you won his dad over through baking? I’m sure the oral helped too.
    Thanks for the blog today.


      I explained to Matt (who doesn’t understand Latin men) it’s totally a term of endearment. He’s not from New York, he doesn’t get it. We love him anyway, though, don’t we? He’s such an amazing blogger.

      I love to bake. Cookies, cakes, pies, bread. It’s all good.

      Thank you for telling me I inspired you. that’s an honor beyond words.


    Helena Hann-Basquiat February 7, 2014 at 7:05 am

    Every time I finish a post I think it’s my last one. I have gone through times where I feel like I’m pounding my head against my wall and nobody is listening. Sometimes I just have to change gears and try something different.
    I loved A Wrinkle in Time, by the way. One of the first books I fell in love with.


      Oh my good God-
      This is why I love you and your posts. I’m a lazy blogger, which is why I don’t comment all the time, but I devour all your posts.

      And now I know why. A Wrinkle In Time. It did it for me.

      Blog sisters, we are.


    you had me at the title!!! and now I can KNOW you! yay


    Burton never won an Oscar…. George of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe? Elizabeth Taylor didn’t get anything for Martha… What a rip!


    I have tears in my eyes. I can relate to so much. Crazy.


      Girl – I read your comment about making it rain. Did you read my post “Naked at the Club?”

      We’re blog soul sisters. We really, truly are.
      I emailed you about it.


        Gotta check my email. And read this post you speak of. The internet is a black hole, I pop in for five minutes and three hours later I’m naked on the bathroom floor.

        Or something. Yes, I was a stripper, many moons ago. I think my Mom would kill me if I blog about it. But I have so many stories.


    Also, I love A Wrinkle in Time. I just finished reading it again. Last week. More weirdness in the Samara/Nicki connection.

    And I may not be from Nueva York, but I have been called Mami many, many times. And it never gets old.


      See? You Monsters Are People Called me out on it, but he doesn’t get it. Although he is a brilliant blogger.

      He just needs to learn Spanish dirty talk.


        Hey Samara, I’m getting ready to post my second blog tomorrow. I was thinkng that becasue you’re such an incredible writer I can email you a final draft before I post it.
        I hope that wouldn’t be intrusive. I only have 2 follewers and your 50% of that tally. LOL
        After this blog that you posted about all the things you know it makes me wonder if there is anything you don’t know. As I mentioned on someone elses blog I have coined you
        “The gifted one”.
        PS. Matt from You Monsters needs to date a few Chicas, Mami.


        Send it. No problem.


    Damn. I can always count on getting smacked in the face with a form of truth that almost frightens me when I come here. You are like the epitome of that writing quote which I will get wrong that says something like “sit at your typewriter and bleed.”

    Don’t stop blogging.


      This is truly bizarre.

      I was JUST thinking of you. like, this minute.

      And the Blog Her convention. We must chat.

      I won’t stop. I can’t. I’ve tried. I can’t.


    You’re what I like to call an Accomplished Woman. I love your words, Samara. I am reminded that self editing is a killer and blogging needs our freedom to express and NOT worrying what people will think. Love the image, too!

    kennethandrebrownsr August 27, 2015 at 2:47 pm

    Reblogged this on kennethandrebrownsr and commented:
    I love it.


    You have LIVED. And you are all the ‘-er’s


    This is really beautiful, Samara. I’m sorry I missed it the first time you wrote it but glad I saw it on the SisterWives reblog…


    I know… YOU ROCK!! Thanks for sharing your heart…body.. and soul! I didn’t know you Feb of last year, but so glad I have found you now! 🙂


    I’ve been wondering if I should stop blogging. Honestly, the title is why I clicked this post – right now – on Facebook.
    I follow you on Instagram. I have Jimi’s birthday. This post makes me feel like I’m your friend. And there’s no reason to stop blogging….now you got me thinking…who am I?


    Phenomenal! You’ve experienced a hell of a lot of life. I love it when I come across people who have things in common with me, and yet who also definitely have different life experiences than I’ve had. I love math. Found algebra the most useful, but have a deep love of geometry, especially sacred geometry. I’ve never been betrayed financially, but had the one person in the world who is supposed to have my back and love me unconditionally, be unable to do those things (and in fact, inflict great damage) because of her mental illness. Write on!


    Why didn’t I comment on this in Feb. 2014 (because, you know, everyone hangs on my every word, so my comments are SO important)? Didn’t I “know” you (in the “blog-ical” sense) back then? When I saw the title of this post in my email feed, I thought it said “In which I decide TO stop blogging,” and thought it was Gretchen quitting, and panicked, and then thought it was you quitting, and panicked again. Not just because I love you both (in the “blog-ical” sense), but there are so many who have quit, or mostly “laid low” for a long time. Heck, I’m down to, maybe, a dozen actual readers lately, I think. People get tired of it, discouraged that their posts don’t “go viral” (maybe I need to get a cat and film its every move, then blog about that), or there’s the self-loathing vs. self-aggrandizing thing going on, and the self-loathing thing wins for a while. I just have to keep reminding myself that blogging is a fun hobby and that should be enough, and it’s a way more socially acceptable hobby than masturbating in the Walmart parking lot is. Damn prudes.
    Oh, and the cookies look delicious!


      I bake awesome cookies.

      I don’t care if my posts go viral but I definitely like people to read them. They don’t always read the things I want them to. But I can’t control that.

      I’m not quitting. Not today, anyway


    I found this today, a day I’ve spent pondering why I blog. Josi Denis’ “Dear Mommy Blogger” piece of brilliance about selling out, the disappointment when I think I’ve got an original idea but it’s not (who knew so many women loathe Mother’s Day?), my first published piece that doesn’t tell the whole story of how I actually hit and kicked my kid… In this vortex of noise I stop and think, “One post at a time,” and I keep blogging.


    PS – This was my first piece. Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to rewrite.


      Write Free! is my motto. Be courageous and write what you feel.

      Thank you for taking the time to find my blog, to read and to comment.

Trackbacks and Pingbacks:

  1. In Which I Decide Not to Stop Blogging | psychosputnik - August 27, 2015

    […] Quelle: In Which I Decide Not to Stop Blogging […]

When I see the orange light, I have a BLOGASM...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s