I guess you could say that I was inspired by my sister to write this blog -- sort of. I write a lot, probably more creatively than she does in life. She's a technical writer, I majored in Journalism/Communications in college. I don't write for a living. I just do it for fun because it relaxes me. I tried to do it for a living once, but umm... deadlines? Ugh, not for me. I'd be the reporter stuck in the newsroom at the 11th hour staring at my typewriter with my story notes - completely uninspired to form them into something that others would want to read. Just the thought of it makes me cringe.
I was the same way in college and grad school. I could do all the research in the world about my subject matter but when it came time to actually write the paper -- I would get a horrible case of writers block. In grad school, I'd spend hours in the library either staring at a blank computer screen or writing and rewriting just the first paragraph. Then mysteriously, the rest of the paper would just take flight and before I knew it, I'd have 8 or 10 pages done.
Writing for my own entertainment is a completely different story though. I have no problem writng short stories about stuff -- be that an extended episode of my favorite tv show, or one of my 19 attempts to develop my original character stories or just rambling in my journal -- which will now be my blog. Nope, no issue. It took me all of 5 minutes to write this introduction. Go figure.
So a couple of days ago my sister told me that she was writing a blog about her life before she turns 50. That intrigued me a bit ... because I never took her for one that would share her life so publicly. She's not the touchy feely type at all. She's not the type to just write something for no particular reason. She used to edit my papers for grad school and I'd have to bribe her with gift cards to Talbots or just plain ole cash just to get her to agree to do it. (of course - that may of had something to do with me getting them to her the day before they were due and putting her behind the 8-ball) She's edited a couple of my short stories ---which cost me big bucks -- because outside of the Amazing Race, she and I have nothing in common as far as TV viewing goes. In fact, now that I think about it -- other than having the same parents and enjoying food, chocolate and dogs and the occassional inside joke, she and I have nothing much in common.
Okay, so why am I writing this and why did I pick that name? Well, I was already keeping a journal that will be forever encrypted and hidden in the depths of my computer (unless I die and some CSI tech figures out where I hid it -- yikes will they get an earful!!!)
The name -- sounds kinda creepy eh?? Well, I think it sums up how I've been feeling for the past year. I'm almost 45 years old and I live with my parents for criss sake -- LOSER!!! I say that with a chuckle because we all have a stereoype of middle-aged people that live with their parents. Men that have always lived with their mama, in the basement and mama still does their laundry, right??? Well, that's not me -- I live on the 2nd floor and I do my own laundry. For all pratical purposes, my parents are my roommates -- even when they treat me like I'm a 14 year old with a curfew.
Most people my age have their lives together, or at least the illusion of it: own a home, have a family, a nice 401K cushion, a good career .... me? I have none of those things. Why? I don't have a definitive answer for that. I guess I'm in that place where I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life. There are a lot of options out there. I just need to try to find my niche.
So the purpose for this blog is to chronicle my journey to find my way. I think if I do it publically, I have more accountability to get my act together. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll just have fun trying and end up with a bunch of funny-insightful essays about life that will later beccome part of my obituary. Whatever the case .... 12 months from now -- I'll still be living in my skin - which when you think about it literally is the bag that holds our organs --- hence the body bag.
Oh, and my final note ... I suck at grammar. This is my blog and I'm writing it the way I want. I love dot dot dot and dash dash dash ... and I might end the sentence with a prepositional phrase. OMG!! Don't freak.
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