Starting a new blog--especially a long-posts-telling-stories kind of blog, is always a little bit tricky. I want to be genuine, but I don't always know which parts of Genuine Me are interesting. A dash of this and a pinch of that, I guess.
When it comes down to it, I need at least one more thing to fill my days, because it's a little slow around here lately. Up at six, G goes to work, I feed the dogs and have some coffee--or, lately, in an attempt to cure my incessant jitters, tea--while I read or watch the news. Then I clean something, because there's always something to clean, and scan the job boards to see if anything new has come up that I'm qualified to reach for. About two thirds of the time, that leads to an hour or so spent writing cover letters and editing my resume for a new application, or, if I'm having a really bum day, trying to finagle all my information into some new company's online application system, which on the whole rarely fail to be both tedious and overly complicated, especially if you're trying to explain an 18-month employment gap brought on by immigration. Then I have some lunch, walk or run with whichever dog didn't get walked yesterday, and do some doula work--whether that means reading, working on my website, browsing my groups, seeking, contacting, or following-up with potential clients, or some other thing. That usually puts me at 3, which some days is the home stretch and other days is only the halfway point of G's work day. If it's a short day, I start figuring out what's for supper, and if it's a long one, well, I try to figure out what else there is to do that I can do alone. You'd be surprised how quickly you run out of those things, especially when money is tight enough that "just go somewhere" isn't really viable on a regular basis. Sure, some days I do just go somewhere--the library, or the park, or window shopping--but shopping for no reason has never really been my jam, and most entertainment options cost dollars, which we don't have a ton of! But I digress.
The point of that whole long rambling paragraph is that my life isn't all that exciting. I'd like it to be more exciting--it should be more exciting! I've lived in three countries! I have friends all over the world! I have two degrees! I've done a lot of exciting things! But even exciting lives aren't exciting every day, which is among the perils of blogging, I suppose.
So on longer days, I write. I dabble in fiction, though I'm not very good, and I dabble in memoir, though again, I'm never sure if I'm interesting enough for that. I often wonder, somewhat self-consciously, if blogging is just what people do when they wish they felt exciting enough to write a memoir. And, certainly, just about everybody does wish that, I think. The proliferation of both blogs and memoirs testifies to that wish, and I certainly see value--both personal and cultural--in both types of writing.
In any case, I'm blogging, here. I'm blogging because I have thoughts in my head that I want to put in writing, and there's something about putting them in writing other people might stumble onto and see that's appealing, somehow. I can't promise consistency and I certainly can't promise anything interesting, but I can promise dogs, occasional food stuff, periodic ranting, and with any luck, this year will carry on with the recent tradition of being a little bit more lovely than the year before it.