I started a blog a long time ago. Like, a long time ago. I was at the tender age of 13, following the trend of all the Myspace users linking their ~*private*~ LiveJournals and Xangas like throwing your thoughts out into the void of the internet and then hiding it was something profound and ~*mature*~. I made multiple LJ’s (that’s LiveJournal for anyone unfamiliar with the ancient tombs that are the early days of the internet), and I deleted a lot of them too. I think I was on Myspace three times. And Xanga was my workhorse; the simple ease of typing in a text box, changing the font color to purple and posting long long columns of your most deepest, darkest thoughts was alluring. Besides, everyone was doing it. It was cool. Friends are on the internet now, forget talking to people in –gasp – person. Or public!
‘Well A, what was in those journals’ you may ask.
The first rule of teen angst is: you don’t talk about teen angst.
I like to keep that part of my life safely closed, with a padlock, in the basement. The world is better off without the hundreds upon hundreds of meaningless posts. Trust me.
Now, imagine me (or you, if you want to feel included) all grown up, prim and proper and educated like all the other girls. I definitely have my life together. I know exactly what I’m going to major in college and have my entire life planned out until I’m 30, including lovely features like my own two-story 3,000sqft home, the required 2.5 children and the loving husband, a membership to the country club. We take family walks together with the family dog (named Snowflake), and eat every dinner together at exactly the same time. Every day. Every. Day. My house is always spotless, yet I somehow find the time to relax in my grand master bedroom suite and drink expensive wine and listen to piano music. Also every day. And I smile when I hear the children coming home from private school, bursting into my thoughtfully arranged foyer, tramping up my mahogany staircase and crashing through the double French doors (which I thought I locked) of my delicately-scented suite and…
Ahem. Imagine… me (or you) standing on the football field of my college graduation ceremony, wind howling, my bobbypins unable to keep my dumb flat hat on my head, tassel slapping me in the face, diploma in hand as a photographer appears from the ether and takes the most candid photo of my painstakenly arranged and perfect self.* And my transition lenses on my pair of glasses that do not suit being sunglasses in any shape or form. I barely had time to smile.
I get to look at that photo every time I visit my grandma. The grainy, badly exposed photo on show and enlarged for anyone to see. Standing proudly amongst the other family photos, right smack in front of the one where I’m 13 and didn’t want my photo taken in any sort of way and yet sat, posed with my younger sister and cousin who looked like they could still be in diapers. Um. Awkward. Nana is so proud of that photo…
But the kicker is, that diploma that I worked so very hard for*, that piece of paper shoved up my armpit and perpetually fluttering in the typhoon, is framed somewhere. Seal embossed and signature with ink. You know, from a pen. What does my expensive piece of paper have to do with blogging, with my life?
And so, here we are, together at the end, wondering if this blog post is going to have a point or if it’s going to be flung into the abyss, the blog and it’s author never seen again. Well, in fact, let me sum this up for you:
1. I started a lot of blogs between the ages of 12 and 23, now all barren and forgotten (and probably deleted by the host if not myself)
2. I got a degree that haunts me, sings me sweet siren songs in the deepest of night (use meeee, use meeeeeeee)
3. I am almost 30 and it has taken me 7 years to try and put this “degree” to “work”
Yes, I do have an English degree with a minor in…wait for it…communications. Here I am,communicating, and I’ll be damned if I can’t put my hours of deconstructing literature to good use. (speaking of, have you seen The Turning? I wrote my senior paper on the deconstruction of the Turn of the Screw – meaning, my thesis was the story was a bunch of ho-ha because of two unreliable narrators – I think that movie is based on that. It looks cool. I might go see it.)
In conclusion, I like putting my thoughts down. I also like people to read my thoughts, be entertained by my thoughts, to like my thoughts. There are many other reasons. Many other potential blog posts, but they are for another time. Maybe years, decades from now. Can you imagine? Blogging in 2030? 2040? We probably share thoughts through wifi nanobots and don’t even need computers anymore. Fascinating.
In conclusion again, I gain amusement by talking to myself in text on a computer screen and I’d like to think I have some worthy experiences to share. I have ideas, theories, important existential crisis stuff. Epiphany stuff. SO. MUCH. STUFF. If I’ve amused you in any way, please stick around. I intend to continue to do so. Since this is a lifestyle blog (please don’t tell me you didn’t read the header. Please), I have a large range of topics to choose from, and choose I shall because I am an adult and I can do what I want…and I’d also like to make a little extra coin on the side you know? You know. I know you know.
* note: sarcasm