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Expert of Nothing: Why I Don’t have a Blog Niche

Expert of Nothing: Why I Don’t have a Blog Niche

Being a blogger it’s quite important to know your genre, your blog niche, your claim to fame. Know your audience. Have people who give a flying shit about what you have to say. Be someone that people want to know what you know.


I’m not one of those people.


The absolute hardest part about creating a blog, for me, was picking the blog niche. Seriously. There was no “Parenting Like Your Drowning” blog niche. I even checked for “Losing Weight Because Your Dinner Consists of Dried Edamame and Rotten Grapes” blog niche. Nada.


I have tried my hand at pretending to good at things I’m not. I’ve tried to squeeze my lazy ass in the DIY category but I just killed weeds once and then accepted weeds as part of my landscaping. I tried to write about parenting like I knew what the fuck I am doing. In the end all I had was something to make me laugh until I cried when my kids hit their terrible twos, threes and fours and turned into assholes just like everyone else’s kids.


Losing weight is probably the one thing in my life I have attempted more than anything. Currently, I am on the upswing of that battle being down 90 pounds from my highest weight. Does that make me an expert? Hell no. I am one crisis away from running naked in the streets with a Reese’s mustache on my way to McDonald’s.


For real though, I have never worked hard enough at anything to be considered an expert. I have this personality flaw that expects to be the best at everything and avoid all the things I know I’m not good at. In school I avoided all activities that required running. This discovery came in the second grade when teachers paired us up and forced us to race each other like an underground dog fight. For some reason, I remember my teacher on a lawn chair smoking a fat cigar with fist fulls of cash and a fedora, but (I hope) that can’t be right. Let’s just say I remember being grateful one kid had crutches so I wouldn’t face the humiliation of last place.


After that, I avoided running like the plague. I joined softball under the misguided notion running wasn’t really a necessary skill. The first day of practice the coach started us off running around the gym like quarter horses and I nonchalantly ran half a lap right to the locker room and back to the safety of my Dixie Chicks CDs and Cooler Ranch Doritos.


So, turning 30 this year I am determined to stop avoiding things that make me uncomfortable. I’m going to work hard at things that I’m not naturally talented at. I mean, the list is short, but I’m sure I can find a few new things (ha!). Believe it or not, two decades after Michael Vick’s long-lost love had us coughing up blood on the tennis court, I took up running. I still could get passed by someone with a broken leg, but I do it. Maybe it’s embarrassing to be running like Quasimodo with a piano on his back, but I like to pretend I’m a good example for my kids. Maybe they will see me and know if they work hard, one day they can run like Quasimodo WITHOUT the piano.


But, what am I the expert of? I would like to say I am the expert of my life and telling it like I really don’t give two shits what anyone thinks. Maybe that’s not enough. Maybe it is. All I know is I love telling my stories. I love when I see someone at the grocery store and they cackle about reading my bush shaving story. It’s fun. It makes life fun and, hey, what else can you talk about in the produce section besides pubes?


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