First for everything

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

(RIP J.D. Salinger)

What do I feel like going into? Well I guess that depends on who will read this. Considering that even my priest is now on facebook, my virtual free speech has certainly been...err...chilled. But, come to think of it, not in the scary First Amendment kind of way- it probably keeps me from saying things I shouldn't online anyway. After all it is smart to control your virtual audience (particularly if you want to keep your quasi-important job in the big city) and, if you can't say something in private, you probably shouldn't say it at all.

So isn't the point of a blog to advertise your thoughts to some degree? Absolutely. But the anonymity can thaw my otherwise chilled speech and I'll embrace that for now. Which, back to my first point, probably means nobody will read my blog. I mean, it's not like I'm Amy Adams and, despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, I can cook one French recipe a day and become a superstar. (First candid thought: that movie was terrible and everything Amy Adams touches turns to crap. The only good thing about it was Stanley Tucci's flawless portrayal of Julia's husband, Paul Child, who was obviously gay to any of us who actually read her memoirs.)

I just feel like I'm good at appreciating creative thought, good writing, and novel ideas. I read more than anyone I know. And I'm not talking about Nicholas Sparks (I'll stop there at throwing stones re: guilty pleasure reads...I did read the entire Twilight series and loved it). I'm talking about Salinger (see above), Austen, Rushdie, Tolstoy, Hemingway, Fitzgerald...and really feel like I absorb their thoughts and dreams on paper- I even borrow some of theirs for my own. So all of this reading makes me wonder...what would my thoughts sound like if I wrote them down? I know I notice things. Particularly moments, many of which are, in my opinion, writing-down-worthy. So why not write them down? I have kept a (admittedly on-and-off) diary since I was 6. And at the very least, I always love going back and reading them over a glass (or bottle) of pinot noir. Particularly the December 1988 heart-felt, emotional outburst of frustration that Santa Claus had the nerve to get my sister both a scooter and a bicycle after what I considered to be a shameless year of sub-par 4-year-old behavior.

So here's to trying a blog in 2010. Cheers y'all.