Here is a comment that I received on Wednesday’s  post.

God your life is envious. Traveling, take out, days at home. Get a job lady.

Its probably the 20th time I’ve gotten a version of this. Some of them have sported better grammar. Some more loathing. All are anonymous.

Here, in no particular order are the thoughts that flash through my brain when I get that comment:

  • A job isn’t what I am seeking. The word job sounds grind-y, neither inspired nor meaningful for the world. If you need to work to survive you should get a job. I do not. So I will do other things with my time and money that hopefully make life better for me and for my community than if I worked 9-5 at a cash register somewhere.
  • Why read this blog if it makes you pissed? This is not required reading for anyone.
  • Trying to reconcile the variety of good fortune that makes it possible for me to not need a job with the emptiness that I feel, perhaps in part because I don’t have a job is complicated. And I shouldn’t have to review it every damn post.
  • Its not like you have to be very fortunate to have a packed suitcase. The majority of us have packed a suitcase for one reason or another.
  • Why, again, do I write this blog? It is such a mixed bag of clarifying my thoughts, making connections with people and feeling like an asshole. The fundamental navel gazing nature of a blog without any thematic or educational purpose outside of myself can be boring even to me. Ultimately though I think I can be the best mother, investor, marketer, developer, decorator, connector, friend and wife if I keep on thinking through this shit.
  • Everything takes practice. I cant just think/write something once, have an aha moment and just straighten out.
  • I don’t generally use this space to celebrate my achievements. I could switch that around. Sort of like smiling in an attempt to change your own mood. Would that make you think I was less of a spoiled whiner?
  • Why do I care?

That’s the bitch of it. Sometimes I really do care. Here is another example of some constructive criticism I have received:

I follow your blog and it’s hilarious. You have to be the most bored, complaining person I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. Ya don’t work, you have tons of free time, you complain about vermont, you complain about the weather, you complain about your kids. What do you enjoy? Anything? Your blog is a broken record of misery

This was even before I wrote the post complaining about my boobs!

I’ll keep writing. You decide if you want to keep reading. And if you are going to write a comment that doesn’t pertain to a particular post go a ahead and leave your name…that way I can get right back to you.

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Anna Rosenblum Palmer is a freelance writer based in Denver, CO. She writes about sex, parenting, cat pee, bi-polar disorder and the NFL; all things inextricably intertwined with her mental health. In her free time she teaches her boys creative swear words, seeks the last missing puzzle piece and thinks deeply about how she is not exercising. Her writing can be found on Babble, Parent.co, Great Moments in Parenting, Ravishly, Good Men Project, Sammiches and Psych Meds, Playpen, Crazy Good Parent, and YourTango. She also does a fair amount of navel gazing on her own blog at annarosenblumpalmer.com.