I am the worst.
I really want to update this regularly. Maybe even on the daily.
I have this problem. I love notebooks. Because of this, I buy cute notebooks and people give me cute notebooks and it leaves me with a surplus of notebooks and a terrible mounting pressure to fill them with words.
I mean, I like writing. And making lists. And jotting down ideas, bus timetables, bits of dreams I remember, and every once in a while I like to write down the names of all the boys I've fooled around with just to make sure I can. (I have a very juvenile goal to have kissed boys named with every letter of the alphabet... okay, not an active goal, that would be super lame. However, if one day when I'm sixty, I go through my list and realise I've done it, I will wear shades all day, even indoors, because that's how cool I will feel. So far, I haven't met any rad Quentins or Xaviers.. )
Anyway, what I'm saying is I have plenty of stuff to fill all these notebooks, technically. But I just can't justify ever soiling a perfect notebook page with ink so flippantly. It's a big commitment, designating a notebook a particular purpose, and one I've always shied away from. This also may explain my penchant for spiral bounds. Spiral bound notebooks are the notebooks of choice for flighty, flaky, indecisive, mind changers like myself. It's so easy to tear out a page and make like it never existed.
I feel similarly about blogs. I have a blog for feminist rants, then decided I wanted a different one for creative writing, then I figured I needed another for general crap (that's this one. Obviously) and even with this one I hmm and haw about whether I really want to post the posts.
For years and years I had a blog on myspace, and it was basically an online diary. I wrote in it every day, about everything. I really enjoyed it actually, both writing in it and reading backover it, seeing what I was doing on this day five, six, seven years ago with a click of a button. But that was back when the internet actually felt anonymous (I know, I'm old)
Anyway, back to the notebook story. What eventually happens, despite my love for and abundance of cute, pretty notebooks, is I find the ugliest, crappiest notebook of all, and because it doesn't matter I start scribbling in it, or doodling or writing down some thoughts and next thing I'm carrying it around everywhere and it has everything from train ticket booking numbers to email addresses and bits of poetry and suddenly I can't even live without it.
So I guess, I'm hoping that by just posting a bunch of crap, this blog won't matter anymore, and then I'll be free to post whatever, whenever without over thinking it. Something like that.
Update: I am consolidating all my various blogs into one, instead of having bits and pieces written here and there. The chronological order might not be right for all the posts, though I have tried to get the dates right for some. But I'm making this the oldest post. To beginnings!
