Just about six months ago, I found myself all dressed up with nowhere to go. So I started a blog.
Did you know that that’s how this all began? I mean, there’s the long story, too: the shock and frantic pace of moving to Philadelphia over the summer had faded, leaving a tinge of loneliness and boredom in its wake; I didn’t yet feel anchored to this new city; when it came to writing and me and where the two might intersect, I felt lost and dizzy and overwhelmed; [insert phrase about tough transition and brewing quarter-life crisis here.]
But the semi-melodramatic details don’t really change the bottom line, which is this: I had bought a new outfit. Perfect-fitting skinny black jeans, a soft, thin greyish-blue open front jersey cardigan from the Nordstrom teens department, hot leather boots of the same color with lots of buckles and straps. And Dave had clinic or an overnight shift or something similarly time-consuming and doctorly, and I refused to let such a cute outfit go to waste simply because I now worked from home and had barely any friends in this new city. So I dug up my laptop case and walked until I found an open coffee shop and started typing up this little blurb about my complete and utter lack of rhythm. Because embarrassing myself seemed like a good place to start.
Since then, I’ve written 96 more posts, most of them at least touching on this theme of embarrassment,which seems to be somewhat pervasive in my life. Other popular themes include, wow, everyone else appears to be perfect (see: thoughts on best friend, boyfriend, boyfriend brother’s girlfriend, Mindy Kaling) and why do I insist on acting like a middle schooler? (see: family vacations, behavior at boyfriend’s brother’s bar mitzvah, excessive evidence of whining.)
I still haven’t learned CSS or mastered shutter speed or redesigned what I am sure is the most horrendous-looking About page to ever grace the Internet. I haven’t changed the world or connected with lots of new people or garnered a big pool of readers eager for my next post. But I’ve said some things I needed to say, and I’ve kept some old friends in the loop on my life and I’ve even written a thing or two that doesn’t make me cringe. So, for that, I owe you, my single-digit readership, a very big thank you. Thank you, Jon and Drea and Amu and everyone for reading and forcing me forward. You’ve done a lot more than let me show off my new jeans, that’s for sure.
So, then. On to the next six. Shall we?