Yearly blogging break does not mean take a year off of blogging does it? Oops…
I know, I know. Blogging 101 says that you should be consistent. That a successful blog should at least write once a week. I was doing ok for a while, but then I wasn’t. It has been a weird year, a year where I questioned a lot of stuff in my life. Like what direction I was headed as a writer, or whatever you want to call me. The most annoying thing about myself is my tendency to beat myself up and second-guess every decision. I could make a career out of doing that, an official second-guesser. Is that a thing? Well, it should be because I would be awesome and get lots of awards from the award giving people.
I started this blog as a therapeutic way to rehash some of my most awkward moments. I am still awkward as hell. It is one thing that hasn’t changed even though I am vastly approaching my third decade on this planet. I always thought my awkwardness would fade when I became an official adult. All this adulting has done nothing for my unbearably awkward syndrome (its a condition, look it up).
Just the other day, I fell near the entrance of a local grocery store. Who falls trying to complete a simple task like grabbing a shopping cart? Me. That’s who. Did I mention it was in front of several people? One of which was a tiny older woman, who squealed when I flew backwards. Her yelp created an even larger audience to see the aftermath of my fight with Gravity. What a b word. Gravity, not the little old lady.
I don’t even know if I have an audience on this blog anymore. I have possible lost the five or so followers I had. Who cares. Its nice to be back.
I haven’t written a post in quite a while and I blame Christmas. I know that may sound really ridiculous to some, but it is the only excuse I have. I don’t know what it is about December that makes it so depressing. All I have energy for lately is to occasionally tweet. They aren’t even good tweets.
I am hopeless. I seriously just want to hibernate or overdose by eating my weight in peppermint bark. Christmas makes me want to never get out of bed because it is kind of cold (for Phoenix) and I have the freedom to do it cause I am an ADULT. (Sometimes I need to remind myself.)
The other thing that doesn’t help is my lack of appetite. Booze and candy is all I crave. Oh and cookies. Pretty healthy, right?
For anyone that is actually reading this I will be back shortly. I just need to push myself through the holiday fog.
P.S. Merry Christmas or whatever…
We all need to love ourselves a little more.
Reliving my past moments from the good to the REALLY bad has given me a lot of perceptive. From what you can tell from my last few posts I had it a little rough in junior high. Have you ever wanted to go back to tell your younger self that things will get better? That junior high is tiny little dot on your life’s timeline? There are so many things I have learned from writing about my childhood.
was am deathly afraid of rejection. I had low self-esteem and horrible social anxiety. I had a group of friends that accepted me, but I always had that fear that they would stop being my friends at any moment. I was known as the “goofy one” in my group of friends. The girl who tripped over speed bumps more than once (completely sober I might add). The girl who had trouble forming sentences around the male gender and authority figures. That girl who had such a problem with being the center of attention she refused to walk into a crowded room alone.
I was put into a category early on in my life, and it was hard to get out. I was never taken seriously and was ashamed of being that weird girl. I spent most of the time just being a follower, trying to stay under the radar. I felt like if I said what I was feeling, my friends wouldn’t accept me. I went along with everyone else’s ideas because it was easier. The problem was the only time I really felt like myself was when I was by myself. My bedroom as a teenager was truly my salvation. I could be whatever I wanted free of judgment. I would spend hours singing in the mirror, writing songs, and practicing my Oscar acceptance speeches. In my bedroom, I went through many style phases. There was the witchy goth chick liked someone out of The Craft. Oh, and the time I pretended to be the next Jennifer Lopez (post-Selena, pre-Gigli). My all time favorite was the punk rock emo girl who listened to way too much Yellowcard.
My bedroom is where I found my passion for writing in all forms, my scary movie obsession, and love of indie rock. The real me was left in my room while I went off pretending to be whatever I thought my friends wanted. It took me awhile to embrace who I really wanted to be.
As I get older it gets a lot easier to not care what others think. I stopped censoring my personality. I found at least one person that accepts everything about me because I accept everything about him. I try to embrace my goofy side while exploring my many other sides. I am not afraid to say that I still sing in front of the mirror. That I love to watch cheesy made for TV movies because they almost always have happy endings. That I am endlessly working on a zombie novel that I may never finish. It took me twenty-eight years, but I am finally showing people who I really am.
I wanted to take a break from my awesome blogging format of recounting my childhood awkwardness, to rant a bit. I started this blog because I love writing and while I know I am not the best at proofreading my own crap (I notice errors AFTER I publish each post). I do feel like I have found my voice here. I hope that if anyone ever gets around to reading this they will find it hilarious or at least mildly entertaining. I was really hoping that people could relate to me in all my gawkiness. The only problem is that I have only talked about who I was as a preteen. There hasn’t been much explaining of who I am now. Well this is me…
Hi everyone! My name is Ashley. I am in my late twenties and have been married for four years TODAY (GO ME! I guess my husband should get credit too). I recently quit my good paying (AKA horrible) job to focus on things I actually like doing. Some of things apparently include getting sucked into The Good Wife on Amazon Prime. How have I lived my life without this show? Besides the mindless distractions of excellent TV shows I do try to get a little blogging in there as well. At least I am attempting to. This rant is going off topic, which only shows my second weakness out of the thousand that I could list (first being proofreading). I did warn at the beginning of post that it would be a rant. I didn’t say it would be focused or even intelligible. Anyway I love all types of writing mostly creative nonfiction. It might sound conceited, but I think I am at my best when I write about myself. It’s not just about me, but remembering people or places in those stories makes me realize that I haven’t lead that boring of a life. The phrase “write what you know” really stuck with me from creative writing classes in college even if I really want to fight through that writing cliché.
My writing life started the day I started to journal all my little angsty thoughts into a tiny purple Lisa Frank notebook with tiny bright green aliens on the cover. (1999 at its finest!) Amongst the various grammar and spelling errors were stories of heartbreak, infatuations, and even more heartbreak (junior high was not good to me). After reading them years later I realized I was an idiot, but quite comical. Frankly I love anything that I can read and relate to. One of the reasons I wanted to start blogging was after reading The Bloggess’ book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened. Her stories are so personal and are some of the most hysterical things I have ever read. Now I can only hope to be as successful as she has been, but that not reason I started it. I just want people to read my blog and either think, this chick is hilarious, or I can write a better blog than this. Either way I have made people feel something after reading my stories.
I have always wanted to start and stick with a blog. Believe me, there has been a couple that I tried only to come across them months later. (Poor little orphan blogs) I am a natural born quitter who is taking the necessary steps to change her ways. No, I don’t plan on quitting this one; even if months down the line there is no one reading. I am not writing this for followers, I am writing this for myself.
So each week I will be talking about my changes in my present, or just completely rambling on. It’s a toss up at this point.