It’s been almost two years since I started this little bloggy. Yesterday I discovered that my first 6 posts did not survive the transfer to WordPress. Luckily, they were not gone forever. I have decided to share them with you. To give you an idea where I started. Here it is. My first post from June, 2010.
There was a girl, just your typical little bookworm, who spent the first 22 years of her life more involved with her books than anything else in her life. She loved reading all types of books – always claiming favorites, but she really just loved them all. She loved writing her own stories. She had pages and pages of characters and plot lines, all stored neatly in the chaos of her mind. She would journal occasionally, and even try to write down some of the stories, but she felt destined to never create anything of significance.
Then, only a month before her 23rd birthday, she successfully created something. She gave birth to a little boy. The beginning of his life was rocky. The girl, never quite comfortable calling herself a ‘woman’, didn’t bond instantly with her prematurely-born child. She felt consumed by being his mother, and was always so terrified of losing ‘herself’, that she didn’t stop for a long time to think about the fact that she didn’t even know who ‘she’ was to begin with.
It took the girl and the little boy almost 4 years, but they finally got used to each other. She finally felt confident in declaring that she had finally created something incredible. And he was. She still didn’t always feel like she deserved the little ‘monster’ (as she called him, endearingly), but she did know that she loved him. She loved his smile, his humor, his imagination. She enjoyed running after him in the park, his bright red cape flying behind him. She felt that he was her own little superhero.
As his 4th birthday neared, the girl decided that the time had come to quit all of her excuses for not writing. There was always a moment during the day (usually after the little boy went to bed) when she noticed that she wasn’t doing anything but sitting in the front of the TV watching ‘House’ or ‘Criminal Minds’ or whatever movie was playing on FX. She thought to herself, “Why can’t I take this time to write?”
So she did. For a few days. But all she wrote about was what had been going on since the last time she wrote. Nothing creative ever flowed to the page. And who cared what books she was reading, or what her little boy had learned to do, or what trip she was excited about taking. Then, she realized. Her family and friends. The ones who flocked to her Facebook to check for status updates, constantly commenting on how much they loved staying connected through social networking. Well, why not create a place where she could do that on a larger scale. Instead of 140 character status updates, she could post a whole entry on what she was doing. Then, she could include pictures from the day or links to sites she had discovered, or she could post some short-story-in-the-making and receive critiques from the people she really cared out.
She’d tried it before, but never kept up with it. So she made a promise to herself. Instead of updating Facebook 3 times a day, she would save those vignettes of her life and commit to updating the blog (for that was what these strange things were called) at least once per week. She could do it. Her lunches at work were always spent with her nose in a book. Instead, she could take one or two of those lunches and update the blog. She wouldn’t even have to tell people when it was updated. They could just subscribe to it, and be notified whenever she posted something new.
What a brilliant idea! Original, no. But still perfectly brilliant.