Blog Dearest

Dear Blog,

I have been ignoring you. You were supposed to be a cute little corner of the internet where I put pictures all the time and write cute stories. But since becoming a mother I have been bothered by existential questions even more than before (much much) and so I can't write about cuteness all the time. It does not feel fair.
You were supposed to be the timeless internet signature that will always be there to serve as a document and to nag me to be made better and better. But I don't have time for you. i don't. Even though I am a stay-at-home mother and I should. I have no excuse.
I don't want to post silly unfinished stuff. But I have.
I tried posting fashion and recipes. The crown of silliness.
Since becoming a mother I have learnt how to makes cakes that I like. Impressive looking cakes I'd dare say. The other day I presented a frozen rainbow chiffon cake of four layers into the shape of 40. But no one should be mistaken here. I took architecture classes in college and I should know how to make a cardboard mold, right?
I am sure all my readers who are extremely limited because this is a private blog, would want to see photos. Oh, they do exist a plenty, but on I-pads and an I-phone that are not mine but my partner's and I am too lazy to figure out how to get them to my blog.
Finally, dear blog, despite my secret dreams to learn to write well, I actually am refusing to use the little spare time that I have to learn to write. I am a stubborn Bulgarian-born chocolate cake eater who drinks a lot of coffee and reads a lot.
Back to the existential questions. I have been thinking about death, dear Blog. Can you help me with that? Death will come one day, and I am afraid that all I will leave as an artist is unfinished projects. Half-started ideas. Nothing at all. Dear Blog, I am also afraid that not being the very good human being that I am, I might not be a good mother either. How do I not spoil my child? How do I teach her the right things? How do I figure out what she needs? After all, dear blog, to be a mother is not a career, and I don't have one and in the 2st century that is simply unacceptable.
Dear Blog, I am going to be going now, because nothing can hold my attention for long, a skill I have sharpened from hanging out with my toddler, and because I am bored with writing to you.
Bye now!