  Last night I had a long, twisting dream in which I wandered through my writing, editing and reading. Everything I read was littered with sticky words from pop-culture. In other words, everything I read--serious articles, fiction, non-fiction--looked just like my blog. The message I gleamed from the dream was that the lazy patterns I allowed to populate my blogs were infecting my other writing. It was a nightmare! I've always thought the language police style of reading and writing was so rigid, so stick-up-your-ass. Writing reflects the person behind the keyboard, and one way to reflect moods and personality is by bending the writing rules. Rules aren't really learned until one knows enough to bend them, right? Blogging has always been my medium for lazy writing. Elsewhere, I strive to write in a respectable voice, but the blogs are the bubblegum for my fingers: not nutritious, just fun. Sometimes I say they clean the pipes so the good stuff can flow in my "real" writing. Largely because my blogs are, for me, a huge social outlet, they reflect the way I talk.
I guess that means I have a lazy way of talking. I know some part of my brain likes it that way, since my vocabulary is one of the only expressions of my youth. When I was always in offices, I liked the dissonance of being great at a formal adult job (which always required very stuffy, professional writing), dressing professional, and yet littering my phrases with colloquialisms of youth.
These days no one sees the person behind the writing, be it blogging or submissions. I often find myself wearing a t-shirt and comfies through a morning of writing and child minding, then dressing quickly for a playdate at the park in clothes that might trick the thirty- and forty-something parents into thinking I'm one of them (so they'll talk to me), but I still get tripped up when I open my mouth. The lingo gives me away. Maybe I should switch it all up. Speak well, work well, but look crazy.
I like that idea. I've been thinking of washing some indigo into my hair, I could re-pierce my belly button, and I think face piercings are way sexy. Oops! I mean, facial piercings exude sexual appeal. This is going to take some adjustment. 
