My sister made me do this. No, maybe it was the mother of the little girl that I nanny for. Or perhaps it was me all along. Well, whatever birthed my interest in blogging has brought me here, to this moment, rambling at my laptop. Not that I don't believe in the power of blogging and social media. I do- but mostly I believe in writing as a path towards self-discovery, and blogging as a means of motivation to write routinely.
That being said, I have been so hesitant to start a blog for two main reasons--first and foremost, I did not want to be grouped into the category of women who blog because they (honestly) believe that they will one day become famous like Amy Adams did in Julie & Julia. I mean cute movie, but who are we kidding? Secondly, I am a verocious type-A perfectionist who is in the worst writing rut of her life. I used to enjoy writing and be extremely proud of my work, and somewhere in between graduating from college and job application numero 4,000, I lost my confidence. My voice. My drive.
Several times over the past few months I have set up blogs, stared at the screen and quickly deleted my account. I have written an entry, only to backspace every word, disgusted at how contrived it sounded. I've even brainstormed about blog names, thinking that if I have the perfect most original name, then the writing will come. But the truth is, as pointed out by the oh-so-clever Penelope Trunk, no one is reading this. At least not yet. And that isn't my priority.
I have no idea where this is headed but I do have a lot of life-figuring-out ahead of me--including a move to France, careers, relationships, finding a place to call home, and everything in between. So here's to not being perfect. Or Amy Adams.
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