This is my third blog

I’m afraid I’m not very good at maintaining things. The longest-serving pair of shoes in my current wardrobe is only about a year old – and they were Clarks, mind you. I don’t know why I suck at taking care or even keeping my possessions, and to say it’s just part of who I am would be a public admission of congenital irresponsibility. So I prefer to think I haven’t matured yet. My goal is to one day be able to pass on to my teenage daughter the earrings that my mother gave me for my college graduation, and then smugly say to myself – see, you were able to able to hold on to the things that really matter, after all.

My first blog was hosted on Blogspot, and it was a funeral pyre of all things hateful and miserable about my sheltered little life. It helped that not very many people read it, and few of my real life humans ever wandered into it, so I felt even more liberated to write as I truly felt. Looking back on it now, its point was similar to the current social function that Twitter serves: to air out all the poorly structured points and overly-dramatic delusions of prepubescent teenagers who have more free time to spend online than common sense. Except I think it’s fair to say that I have a better grasp of language and of style than most of the kids on Twitter, and I certainly didn’t let pheromones rule over my life.

That blog was deadly fun for four years. When I hit my twenties though I realized the rants were getting repetitive. It eventually became excruciatingly boring to constantly celebrate self-pity parties.

After a hiatus I relocated to WordPress about a year ago, and my username was a pseudonym. It’s the same name I give to baristas when I don’t want them to know what my real name is but giving an equally random and obviously fake title like Little Red Riding Hood: Dumbest Girl Alive would make them pay me more than a comfortable amount of attention. Given the emotional wasteland from which I had emerged, the point of this new virtual space was to encourage me to strive to be cheerful. I’m not the world’s most naturally positive thinker, so this objective meant a lot to me.

In time though, I wrote less and less and came to care very little for the second blog. It wasn’t so much the lack of things to write about as it was the masquerade that I was keeping up. I was writing under an assumed identity, and the (freakish) tag of that blog had been fulfilling the dream of the other skin. I wasn’t trying to embrace a happier me – I was trying to create a separate identity, an ideal persona that was so unlike the real person that I am.

Hence – this third blog. I don’t think this one will fail.

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