Pulling the Trigger

When I started writing, I was looking for a space to chat about personal trials and tribulations. Call me young, or call me naive, or call me whatever (just don’t be TOO mean!), but I thought that getting it all out here would fix my hard stuff – would take the stumbling blocks, wrap them up and seal them off from me, like the bright colorful wrapping paper and cloth ribbons I use to dress gifts shields their recipients from knowing the contents inside. I thought that if I wrote about it, it would bring me peace and I could move on. I thought I could fix myself through pouring it all out here.

Turns out, I wasn’t ever really broken. And I didn’t really need fixing. Turns out, grown up life is just complicated. And sometimes a little hard. Turns out, I’ll be fine. And I don’t need to write about it.

But instead, I think I want to write a different kind of blog. I want to write about the makeup I buy. What lip gloss I like, and what lip gloss I choose to pass over. What works to cover blemishes, and what doesn’t. I want to write about the silly g-chat conversations I have with my friends and love ones. I want to write about funny anecdotes from my crazy family.

Turns out, I want to write about little things from the life of a silly, happy, eager girl (lady? I don’t know, I’m 25 – does that mean I have to admit to being a grown up?), with a live-in boyfriend, a big boisterous family, a job in academia, and a penchant for lip glosses and other makeup, who just so happens to have a lot of words to use each day.

These are my words.

We’ll see where this goes.