So on Monday morning I was enjoying a peaceful coffee with mum, Miss K was safely
I had received an email from a gentleman advising he wanted to discuss my blog for ABC 7:30 and asking for my mobile number. Now normally I don't hand my phone number out willy nilly to total strangers, but I was feeling good in my warm spot on the couch, so I figured what was the harm. At the time I didn't really pay attention to where he was from, because ABC 7:30 made no sense to me, so I just assumed it was another website I'd just not heard about. I've never really had my finger on the pulse of what's popular. The next thing I knew, I had a voicemail message telling me that he wanted to interview me for the 7:30 Report on channel ABC. For any of my wonderful non-Australian readers (and for any Aussies who don't really watch ABC because art shows and documentaries are not your cup of tea) the 7:30 Report is a national current affairs program which runs nightly on TV. Despite the fact that I stopped watching ABC when they swapped most of their kids programs to a dedicated second channel, I still recognised the name of the program when he mentioned it in the message, and immediately began to freak out. Mum saw the slack jawed look on my face as I hung up my phone, and immediately began to think I'd just received a message that someone was dead. So when I told her what the message really was, her face mirrored mine. If we were at a carnival I'm sure people would have started dropping balls in our mouth in order to try to win a poorly made stuffed animal. (I'll just leave that mental image right there for you.)
Eventually I got over my initial shock and called the guy back. We ended up chatting for about twenty minutes about this blog, and the blogging culture in Australia as a whole. At the end of the interview he told me he wanted to interview me on camera for a report they were going to run on mum blogs in Australia, and while I thought his report was probably several years too late, given the mum blogging craze really reached its peak quite some time ago I agreed to allow him to send a crew over to my house. We ended our conversation and then reality hit me. At some stage during the week (I didn't get proper confirmation of dates or times until the next day) a crew were going to descend on my house, filled with its mountain of rubbish we haven't gotten around to taking to the rubbish tip yet, and mail piles full of letters dating back possibly two years, inhabited by a slightly overweight single mum with terrible teeth, and expect to film something that Australians would actually want to watch. I don't know if there is a person in the world capable of that level of magic. They wanted to film me and Miss K interacting as part of some action shots as well, and the thought crossed my mind to just make her do the entire interview on my behalf, given she is never at a loss for words, and she knows she is the most fabulous person in the world, but I figured they probably wouldn't think that idea was as awesome as I did. So I set about panicking.
I spent the next three days trying to clean the house, while trying not to laugh, cry and throw up all at the same time. I called family members, I went to my blogging friends, I even got on Google trying to find something to calm my ever increasing nerves. I made note of the fact that you shouldn't wear red, black or white on television, as none of those colours are flattering apparently. I also found out that you should wear blue because it's the best colour for creating a healthy looking complexion. This caused a new panic for me because I own a total of one blue t-shirt and it is covered in permanent ink. Not exactly the image I wanted to convey as a blogger/mum who has her shit together in her own mind but nowhere else. Thanks to Google I also discovered there is no diet or exercise plan that helps you lose the equivalent of a small child from your behind in three days (thanks scientists). I was contacted by the producer who was actually going to be running the circus, and I'm sure he immediately regretted contacting me when the barrage of questions came, especially the one where I admitted that I do not actually own a single item of make up at all. (I am sure that by admitting that fact on such a public forum I am now going to lose my female card any day now.) He did his best to reassure me, and was kind enough not to laugh at my increasing mania.
The day before the interview, I was taking a short break cleaning up the many piles of junk which have accumulated on any and all available surfaces, when another email came through. Before I even opened it, I sensed that I already knew what it was going to be, and sure enough, it was from the original producer who I had spoken to on Monday, telling me that unfortunately they had to pull the story because there were issues with another part of it. I sat for a second waiting for the disappointment to come, but all I could feel was relief. I was relieved that I could stop cleaning, I was relieved that I didn't have to feel ashamed because I don't wear makeup, I was relieved I didn't have to worry about exactly how fat I would look on a wide screen television, and I was relieved I wasn't going to be famous. (OK I wasn't really expecting two minutes of screen time on one current affairs show to really be my ticket to the big league, but fifteen seconds of fame is still fifteen seconds of fame.)
It has occurred to me over the three years that I have been the proud owner of Searching for Sanity that what I originally thought I wanted with the fame, the recognition and the book deal, isn't actually what I want at all. What I really want is what I have right now. A forum to place all the crazy stuff that floats around in my head, and a handful of loyal (if very quiet) readers who have found this place, liked the look of all the madness, and just made themselves at home on my lumpy couch. With fame and/or recognition comes expectations, and expectations mean work. I am just too lazy for all of that stuff, and that isn't about to change. I like that to you guys I am just words on a page, and the occasional weird picture. I like that my mum is still my biggest fan, and I can always tell when she's visited my site because it shows up in my stats that someone googled the blog name, despite the fact that if she just typed the first three letters into the address line up the top it would come straight up. So for now, and possibly forever I will remain almost famous, but as long as I have this place and you guys, that is the best thing to be, so thank you.
I know a lot of my blogger friends and possibly some of you who don't have your own websites have actually gotten past the scheduling part of getting onto TV, and have actually managed to get their mugs onto the screen, so if any of you have stories of your fifteen minutes of fame, I'd love to hear them. Let me live vicariously through you guys please, I promise I'll totally be your biggest fan.