Any Idiot Can Make A Bloggy Blog Go

A million times I've tried, a million times I've failed... correction, a whole bunch of times I've thought it would be so cool if I could get my ass in gear for more than twelve seconds to actually get a blog together, and a whole bunch of times I've thought, "but wait! because I haven't seen *this* episode of Real Housewives of..." you get my drift. And not cool in that, "oh people could follow me!" way nor even the "I could become the next loser-made-it-big-because-somebody-in-publishing-found-my-pathetic-blog-and-made-me-rich" scenario. Nope. None of that crap.

Mostly, I thought it would be cool because:

1. I love to write.

2. People either find me highly entertaining or terrifying.

3. I have a lot to say, and,

4. I love love love the idea of putting stuff out there. Out, in the ether. Out in the hot mess of the world. And I feel this way because, guess what, I don't subscribe to the mindset that I live in my quaint little bullshit land-corner of the world where I don't effect change on the greater universe and I live two separate lives where what I think and feel versus what I say and do are quietly, completely separate and mutual exclusive from my dog and pony show where I nod and smile and dance in my circles and leap through my hoops as they would intend me to do.

No me gusta.

I used to worry too much (correction, I still worry too much about everything but NOT about this point I'm about to make) that I wasn't really me, but someone else's version of me. That the snarky, bold, humorist, asshole that I am was more about being surround and succumb by people with strong wills and bigger mouths and egos who I just wanted to satisfy and have love me. Being forced, but willingly, to perform like little junior robots of themselves. But I realized I'm the same asshole I've always been: I'm the girl who yelled at her father at age six, I'm the girl who made an inopportune joke to her mother in the swimming pool one day about Jonah and the Whale and I'm the girl who almost got her ass kicked freshman year for inciting rage in another girl by insinuating she was ugly in the smart-assed way only I could. I really am, right or wrong, me.

I live a big, bold life. Don't get me wrong, I do a ton of boring shit. I also do a ton of stuff wrong. Surely, we'll get into that as the blogs go on, but I never, not ever, not once, not no how bow down to someone else's image of me. Or at least not anymore. Or at least hopefully not. I try to be as authentic as possible. Its only one lifetime, and living it for someone else is the most common form of suicide that a lot of us subscribe to.

Are you awake now?

Back in the day, I did a smaller version of blogging on Myspace. Back when Myspace was queen (because as you all know cash is and always will be king, and Myspace was just it's dirty little hooker queen) I maintained a private diary of sorts which I also shared with the people on my page, and eventually some with the greater populous of Myspace. I really loved it. I have always journaled, but it feels hollow. I need to get the bad out, as John Coffee (just like the drink) would say, I need a release, a format to get it out there, where it feels more a part of it all and less a part of me. Since that time, I toyed with the idea of blogging, and desperately desired to start a podcast after being so thrilled for and proud of good friends of mine who began their own journey into podcasting... but that's the funny thing about desires, at least for me...

The level that which I actually attack and achieve a desired outcome is directly relational to the amount of energy and effort I am willing to put worth. Which generally means I don't get a lot done. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a complete sloth, but, I have done really well with my mantra: minimal effort for maximum reward. In plain English: I do as little that I have to do to get close enough to what I want and I don't really see the need to try much beyond that.

No where was this more true for me than in high school and college. Sorry mom, but I'm pretty sure I never, ever finished a book. In like seven years or something. (Gold star to those of you really paying attention, I finished college in three years, eat that suckas!!!) Why do *all* the work when I could do some of the work and still get a B+ or even an A? That just seemed stupid to me... fast forward to my adult life, and the most recent resurgence of this has been running.

I fucking hate running. I loath it. Detest. My girlfriends and I have begun doing 5ks. Why, I do not know. Why I continue to agreed and even look forward to them, I understand even less, but what I do know is that, I hate running. Well, that might not be entirely true. What I hate, I've come to learn through my therapist, is being told what to do. My best girlfriend jogging along side of me, motivating me to go "just to that light post!" reverberates inside of my appendages until I'm screaming profanities at her and telling her I hate her. (Sorry again for that Tracy). Me trying to push myself to jog and not switch to walking just to the corner causes me such internal conflict that I begin thinking to myself, "fuck you, you aren't the boss of me!" Um, did you catch that, I am fighting with myself, who is trying to motivate me... hello?!?!

And then one day my therapist said, well, you just don't like being told what to do. You are rebellious. And I am still trying to decide if that is lack of maturity or if I am so disinterested in society's little games, that I'm trying as hard as I can to opt out. The current working theory, and stay tuned kids because I've got lots of theories (!!!) is that I see it all for what it is: a joke. If I wanted to run, by golly, I'd run. If I cared enough or desired enough to do it, I'd already be doing it, just for the sheer joy of doing it. Not because someone is motivating me (which motivation in and of itself if completely fake and ridiculous) to do it. Not because of the dangling carrot, and sure as shit not because someone else wants or (aackk!) needs me to do it. I like to think I'm bucking authority and fake-oirty and all that other crap for something more authentic, but perhaps I'm just posturing and my head will explode anyway... But once again, let it never be said all the jewels which can be learned from reality TV: Gloria (Jill Zahran's mother on the RHONY) famously put it: "people do what they want to do and they don't do what they don't want to do". And thusly, I have tried to live by this mantra for the past year or so. Some milliseconds, more successfully than others.

Which, believe it or not, brings me back to this blog. For me, this is a venue where I can be me. No strings. I can explore the thoughts in my head, the things that I see, the ways of the world and challenge those in a healthy (ish) way and in a non-threatening space. I hope this blog excites you, entices you, challenges you and annoys you. I can't wait to see the dialogues which can come from this.