I’m a writer. It’s what I do, at least when I can break through the procrastinatory haze and just do it. (Is “procrastinatory” even a word? Probably not. Do I care? Not really.) I even have a freshly-minted bachelor’s degree that officially makes me a writer, as an erstwhile Writing and Lit/Philosophy major. (Don’t be fooled….it’s the Philosophy part that really makes it legit. No joke.)
I also think I have a story to tell – one with thousands of experiences already said, felt, expressed and done, but also one that is still very much in process. After all, isn’t that simply the definition of life, when it comes down to it..? I hold little doubt that my life is exciting probably to only about three people, including me, but a master story teller has the ability to make the wiring schematic for a toaster oven seem riveting. (Not that I necessarily consider myself a master story teller per se, but hey, you’re at the end of the second full paragraph and you’re still reading, right?)
In any case, I’ve been mulling over in my head the creation of this blog for some time now. I’ve even had an introductory post mostly written for months. But…I mean, really….. how many millions of blogs are out there now? You can’t go two inches on the Internets without bumping into one or a hundred, and each one is a singular blazing shrine dedicated to the author’s desire to let the world know.
That’s the beauty of blogging….the mind-bogglingly easy way to get it all on out there: Aunt Flossie’s meltdown at Thanksgiving about too much corn starch in the gravy, and how it must be the cause of her gout flare-up. That uber-awesome salad you made for lunch…I mean, like, avocado! Cherry tomatoes off your very own personal cherry tomato plant! Organic dressing! Or your zygote/baby/adolescent/teenager who is made of so much awesome that your head just might explode. Right now. Or those damned liberal/conservative/libertarian/satan-worshipping drooling Neanderthal idiots who are personally seeing to it that the Great American Dream is smashed to smithereens on the rocks of shoddy idealism. Or cats. And cheeseburgers. Celebrity memes? Oh yes!
This blog might not be all that different, to be sure….but I don’t have any aunts named Flossie, my love for salad doesn’t amount to much more than grudging tolerance unless it’s swimming in about an inch of ranch dressing, and although my three sons are pretty much made of all sorts of awesome, my head has never actually exploded. And politics? They are like the plague to me. Don’t get me wrong: I have an opinion, and it’s pretty strong. But I’m not even a little teeny-tiny bit interested in wading in that poisonous pool, so I won’t. Most of the time.
So what will this blog be about, you might ask?
Whatever this runner/reader/writer/mother/Crossfitter/soon-to-be-divorced/ragingliberalChristianfeminist (One word! For reals!) woman feels like talking about.
Welcome aboard – drinks will be served shortly on the lido deck. Please mind your manners (and your children) and keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times.