One reason I haven't been posting is that if I share any issues, people will try to tell me what I should do, even if I'm not even remotely asking for advice. In fact, i wasn't sure I should even mention it. I'm afraid of getting some well-intentioned commenter saying "you don't want people to offer advice? Well here's what I think you should do about it..."
it sounds like a simple enough, even trivial issue. But it's not really. Not if it stops me from posting. It inhibits me. ("You find it inhibiting? Here's what you should do...") I mean, if i post about a problem and you want to tell me what you did in a similar situation, that's wonderful. I'll sit at your feet and listen attentively. I'd love for you to share your experiences of life. Just don't want people telling me what to do with mine.
Posted from DPad on my iPad
Update:it's Friday!
Ha! He's a swinger! I always suspected...Photo courtesy of: http://www.flickr.com/photos/spacey/ / CC BY-SA 2.0
21 comments:
Wait, so does this mean you are or aren't going to do the tag? Either way, I could give you some advice.
Just kidding! Please don't hate me for that. I just couldn't help myself.
Here is my advice on how to not get advice...In Blogger, at least, you can set that post's option to not allow reader comments. Of course, if you are available via e-mail then the advice may come in that way...but at least this is one means of defense.
Will that work for you?
Is it impossible to leave a comment that doesn't involve telling me what I should do? If so, I would need to disable comments. But I like hearing people's thoughts, and their reminiscences, and stories. I just don't like being told what to do. Does that make sense?
I miss your posts. You're just being paranoid Merry, like you think you're being stalked by Jewish mothers.
It makes sense. You don't mind hearing what others do in that situation, it gives you something to consider. You don't like being commanded.
When people offer me unsolicited advice, i assume they are trying to be nice, really trying to help, and i say something like, "Thank you so much for the input! It's something i'll consider." Yes, i say that even if i would never in a million years consider it.
For me, this works especially well with interfering relatives.
And i've missed your posts, too.
Count me among those who miss your posts!
One of my favorite old bumper stickers: Take My Advice... I'm Not Using It.
I hope I haven't offended in the advice giving department... I miss your posts too, and I have no earthly idea what it means to be "tagged!"
I miss you too! Also don't get the "tagging" thing.
Julie
The inestimable Ms. Xenia tagged me, i.e. she challenged me to answer a heap o' questions.
or me, this works especially well with interfering relatives.
And i've missed your posts, too.
thanks by
it's not easy dating a celebrity, is it...
You are not alone. I just recently read a similar thought expressed by someone who blogs about her experience living with cancer.
BTW - I always thought golf was sort of bleh but my eyes have been opened to its charms thanks to your photo.
It's very important to wear the right clothes in golf... I think Hugh has that down perfectly.
OK... speaking of Hugh's golf clothes, what's up with his left shoulder? Is that some sort of bizarre PhotoShop fail, or does he look like he has a slit cut in his skin and strange indentations across the top of his collar bone?
I'm totally disturbed by this development...
I wouldn't want you to be disturbed.
It was a tattoo in a movie:
http://www.squarehippies.com/2006/07/hugh-jackman/
Whew! That was a close call! :~)
I'm glad you're feeling better :)
Thank-you for spelling it out :-) And it's probably a good reminder for all blogging. I hope all is relatively well.
Hmmm, your blog is one that my blog has taken agin and isn't showing in my reader.
Hope I've fixed it now...I only popped by because I thought you'd gone quiet.
Blooming Blogger! Sometimes it just about drives me crazy.
SP
My blog's gone into the Blog Protection Program? Geez. You'd think it would have told me. Silly blog.
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