a blogiversary

A year ago today. One year from where I’m sitting right now, I started writing to you. I was questioning life. I was questioning purpose. A year and a few months ago, I had no idea what a blog was. Even though I know the old Webmaster for the Dean campaign who helped spurn the blogging of the political masses, I had never really heard of blogging. Having a personal website, yes. Having a journal, yes. Blending the two on a regular basis, no. So how did this happen?

A few years ago I read GOOD IN BED by HER. I noticed at the back of the book that she had a website. It took me a year to finally type it into my browser. And because of HER blog, I found THIS blog, then THIS blog, then THIS one led me to THIS one and she led me to HER, and so ON and so ON. I read and read and read and read. I would come home from work and read the HER back-story for hours. I was enthralled by her romance and her love of life. I would click on all the links SHE had snarked. I felt like she had done my literary or chick lit investigation for me. I loved HER writing. Period. I loved HER put-it-out-there attitude. I found HIM through the same maze of other blogs. I’ve helped him with his new purchased of an apple computer. Mostly, I just love his honesty

Reading blogs became an obsession. Then I decided that I could do this too. It was a media I quickly fell in love with. I emailed my computer freak cousin and asked him how to create a blog. Then somehow I found Blogger and our relationship began.

One year. It’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had. It’s been the most intense. It’s been the most cathartic. I feel obligated to my blog, whether it is read or not, I just have to tell it something. It’s quickened my typing speed. It’s brought friends closer to me. It’s let me celebrate their birthdays. I’ve pissed a stranger off. I’ve profusely apologized for it. And it’s gotten me in trouble.

I’m only deleted one post because of some possible legal altercations. I never told you about that. There’s a reason.

I’ve kept it hidden from family though now I wouldn’t care if it was found. It’s just important that I do this. There is no real rhyme or reason to what I choose to write for a certain day although I’m sure, if you tried, you could find some obvious themes. I once asked, “Where is my ‘what a difference a year makes’?” Well, in this relationship, I’m not questioning anything. I know that this is here to last. I hope it is anyway. I’m happy to do this and I’m even happier you’re here.