Opening Credits

I used to blog, back in the day. In fact, I was a blogging fanatic. I was always ready to mentally prepare a quick blurb about any given event throughout my day. I'm reminded of teenagers (and some older-agers, too) whom tote around cameras to every occasion, with the purpose of documenting and displaying their good times via the Internet.

These were pre-Facebook days, mind you; so I had to scan in a picture, upload it to a photo-hosting site, and then figure out how to link and/or embed the photo in with my writing. I learned a lot of little tricks that way. Most people today probably couldn't write a tag in their source code if asked, as now these are frequently built-in features, accessible with the click of a button. Still, I grew up in "the Information Age," in which access to the outside world was readily available with a phone jack and a computer. And if one wanted to share his or her thoughts with complete strangers, all one had to do was start a page on Angelfire or GeoCities. Although these days I suppose even the simplest of cell phones would do the trick. Mobile-tweet a couple phrases, upload a quick pic, and bing bang boom! You're there. Everyone knows what's on your mind, 24/7. I still prefer Blogger as it is uncomplicated and straightforward. Me. My blog. My readers.

Back then, I tried to capture everything, even when I was in class or working afterward. Study halls and slow times at work were preoccupied with my writing - in journals, the margins of my textbooks, on napkins. I used to write in concentric circles on the paper doilies provided at Panera Bread (St. Louis Bread Co.) and fantasize about who might pick one up and read it. What would they think about this total stranger, spilling out her thoughts among the crumbs of a pineapple upside-down cake or one of those hideously addicting cinnamon crunch bagels? I didn't care. Writing meant everything to me. I just wanted to put myself out there; I wanted people to know what I was thinking, that I could make semi-intelligent remarks about life.

And like any other spoiled child, it was all about me! How did my day go? What had I encountered? Whom had I met? Growing up and coming to understand the world line by line, post by post. And here's the crux: I miss it. I miss the excitement and sorrows of being a misguided teenager, with few "real" responsibilities. Sure, keeping a blog doesn't mean I have to stop going to work or paying rent. But it's a cheap thrill that reminds me of "the good old days." So here's my first step back into the world of writing. About what? I'm not sure. Perhaps this is a silly attempt at reliving my youth, remembering what it was like to want to be somebody who made a difference, even if it was just through writing. Documenting my existence so that someone, someday, might think "I want to be like her." Who knows? By tomorrow I will be living in a new apartment and it's almost the New Year, so that may be a good start. We shall see.