Today is my first blogiversary. One year ago today i made what i thought was the brave leap into the uncharted waters of blogging. Why? I don't have a snappy philosophical answer. It looked like fun, and i like to write. I had been reading blogs for over a year at that point, and had, also bravely in my mind, left a few comments.
What i have found in doing this blogging thing has been a surprise to me. It has been more fun than i expected, and easier. I never stress about posting. If i don't want to/feel like it/have anything to say, i don't. But, me being me, i usually have plenty of things to say.
I know people that i've never met. How odd. And how easy.
Blogging friends are a group that self select. Y'all read about me for a while and get to decide whether or not to participate. It's a method of test driving people. A perfect way to interact for an introvert.
What i want to do today is to re-post my first post, because in some way, this story, that moment, is the reason i started to write.
Please don't shower me with presents or money. Instead, tell me a story. Tell me either why you started blogging, or where the name of your blog came from, or why you read blogs, but don't have one. I love stories.
Here's your summer re-run:
I am riding in the car with my husband and we are headed downtown. It's hot and the traffic sucks. We are on a freeway overpass moving intermittently forward, as fast as the goddamned traffic allows. I am bored and cranky. Up ahead i see three young kids walking along the side of the overpass, where they most assuredly should not be. They look all teen-age-ish in their scruffy clothes and dirty hair and they have their arms around each other. The girl in the middle has pink stripes in her dirty blond hair.
"Goddamn kids," i think to myself. They are probably the cause of some of this traffic mess. They annoy me. I think dark thoughts about them.
Eventually we catch up to them and slowly pass them. I look in the side view mirror and i see that the three of them together are carrying a dead dog. A yellow lab. And the girl is crying.
This is the kind of thing that lets me know i am a judgemental bitch. I start to cry as well. For the dog, and that other bitch too.
My husband looks over and wonders what the hell is wrong with me.