A haiku dedicated to my newborn blog:
Join the ranks of geeks!
Justify my existence.
Recently (like last week) when I went through some serious life changes (like the end of a long-term relationship) I told my friend Allison that I thought I might like to start a blog. Her advice was this: Don't be shy about posting random crap about your life. I'm thinking I'll heed this advice as Allison is a credible source; she has been blogging successfully about her knitting and her life for almost 2 years. So here it is! (Pat myself on the back.)
Not to dwell on the negative, but there is a nagging voice in the back of my head. It says it can already foresee problems with Jessica-as-blogger. Well, only one problem, but its a doozie. The dilemma is this: I'm a false-starter and I'm in denial. What does this mean? That I love to get really worked up and excited about an idea, maybe even make the first few steps to making it reality, then, regardless of any immediate gratification, drop the entire thing. I have proof of this condition. Observe the madness: a never-used snowboard, a hard-to-store exercise ball (soon to be accompanied by a yoga mat, I'm sure), totes of yarn, several journals with only the first three pages used, cookbooks and kitchen paraphernalia, art supplies for making greeting cards, empty plant pots, a friggin' tackle box and, obviously, associated tackle, the list goes on! It may just sound like I'm a pack-rat, but I'm telling you, I am a false-starter. The denial part comes in the way that I keep telling myself I will take up all these activities some day and really, really enjoy them. Actually, admitting it out-loud feels good. Hopefully admission is first step to my recovery, if any is possible. Just know, dear self, that blogger could quickly be added to your list of poser hobbies.
While I'm being honest with myself, I should admit the real reason that this blog is even being pulled out of the realm of daydream and into reality. The reason is this: I am bored stupid because I am being held against my will. Don't be alarmed, but it's true! Basically I'm a prisoner in a hotel in Fort McMurray (a post unto itself) while I'm here for work. On its own, this situation is yucky, but bearable. Now here's the kicker: It's Saturday night. Not the end of the world for most people, but I just happen to be a person who lives for going out and socializing on Saturday nights. I'm being very serious right now. Out of everything I've ever started, I've remained 100% committed to celebrating les Samedi soirs. Getting stupid and staying out late on Saturdays is essentially a religion for me! I worship the deities of cold beer and loud music! I subscribe to the belief that God meant to slur "Let there be alcohol and parties" on the sixth day! This is bordering on persecution!
That's it, I'm taking my fate into my own hands. I'm going to search for a beverage in the hotel bar before it closes.
Pray for me.