My first blog. I've thought of doing this for so long. How long? Since the good old days of Prodigy, that's how long. Anyone remember Prodigy? I admit, I barely do. I do know that if the information I left on there is still floating around somewhere, I wrote a pretty funny article that questioned why Walmart shelved the Barbies so close to the hunting gear.
But....that's not the point. The point is that I have always wanted to write. I was torn by the vast amount of blogs out there, though, thinking maybe that I would just be adding myself to the list of the delusional that think everything they do warrants a line, and every line warrants a "kudo" from a friend or stranger. I don't think my life is particularly amazing, but I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, if I write about what I'm doing now, and then write about what I want to do in the future, I'll find the spark to do it.
Also, "Sharing my writing" is on my list of things to do in my lifetime. So....check #3
What am I going to write about? My life, but hopefully with an insight and humor that will make it:
A) Interesting to more than just my inner narcissist, and
B) Not sound as royally screwed up as it does to my inner critic.
I'm 29, and the six month countdown to my thirtieth birthday has begun. And yes, it's got me thinking about what I've done so far. The list is not long. I tend to refer back to things I've done six years ago, because since then what I've done is basically spin my wheels and have nothing to show for it. We'll get into why later.
Not sounding at all humorous or insightful, is it? Give it time.
My personal life, dating life, and so-called "career" will be the main focus of my writing. I read a lot of books, articles, and blogs about women trying to find love, but so few address the compromises that I've made or faced. And conversations with other women tell me I'm not alone.
Have you ever slept with a man because you were just too tired to drive home?
How about having secret rendezvous? But while he was thinking it was mysterious and exciting, you knew it was because you still lived with your parents at 28 and there was no way he was finding out.
Puked on someone right after, or worse, during sex? Hilarious or horrifying, it will be real.
This isn't Sex and the City. There's no glamour to my life. I'm squarely in the middle class, and my bank balance is lower than my weight.
You're welcome to follow along as I try to find contentment in my discontent existence. And relay the clumsy way in which I do it.
