A blog? Yes. Absolutely! Great idea! I’ll get on it. Oh wait, content? Yeah…that.
The amount of pressure I feel towards the raw creation of a “blog entry”, resembles the amount of pressure I felt when I was 12 years old and my mom gave me my first diary. A diary!? My 12 year old self was bursting at the seams! AH! Feelings on paper! All the Britney Spears posters and N*Sync obsessions couldn’t stop me!
Oh…writing. Yeah, writing stopped me.
What was I, a normal white 12-year-old girl, unburdened by the decades before me, going to write about. It got to the point where I would only write down the most traumatizing incidents, along with very deep middle school quandaries. This diary became a symbol of emotional diving explorations. Not the initial point. When I tried writing about my daily activities, the harsh reality of my WASPy (Wealthy, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant) life was concerning and even then I knew, not okay.
Years later, being instructed to write a blog made me reminisce about those damn diary entries and trying to understand why Andrew liked Chelsea more than me. (Little did I know, her house had a pool, so eventually I gained closure.)
This is the beginning of blogging and while it is interesting that my world is still full of normalcy, I’ve learned that it’s the normal people that end up doing extraordinary things.
So now, it’s my turn.