As a tiny child, I once spent 2 days drilling a hole through a rock with a screwdriver, and then I put that rock on a bit of string and wore it around my neck for 7 years. I spent 25 minutes today scrolling through Facebook looking for an article because I could only remember part of the name and didn’t want to try googling it. I’ve tried to teach my cat tricks. All this is to say that in my life I’ve wasted time on a lot of pointless things that provide for me almost no reward. After reviving this blog and writing on it for a year, I can say that all the work I’ve done here does not count among the many laughably pointless things I’ve done to populate my life.
As a pretentious teenager, I wanted to keep a journal to jot down my ideas and beliefs because I thought they were profound. They weren’t. I’m lucky to have not been granted the internet until I was in my third year of high school, otherwise I would have made a Myspace page to showcase my love of angry metal, V for Vendetta, and how edgy and oppressed I thought I was for being an atheist. The internet did not need more of my kind.
Now that I’m a moderately pretentious adult, I’m glad I can inflict my presence on the internet, and I’m astounded that people volunteer to participate in it. I always tell my students that writing is personal, that it’s a reflection of who they are and what they think, which makes it astonishing that so many people choose to read my reflection. I mean, if I was given the choice, I wouldn’t even visit myself on holidays. I’m acquainted with myself only out of necessity.
So this is a very roundabout “thank you” to the people that have been reading my writing and stroking my ego like it’s nobody’s business. I know people say not to base your happiness on external things like the approval of others, but that sounds hard, and how could I resist with so many nice people out there. I’ve rarely felt better than when I write here, and that is largely due to the people that seem to enjoy writing too.
A lot has happened in the year I’ve been sporadically writing here. I started my first teaching jobs. I learned that I love my work, and I also love complaining about it. I’ve met a very, very nice lady who is systematically pumicing away the thick bitter callous that covers my entire personality while helping me realize the world might be worth taking part in. I finished my first year of grad school which brought with it my first smattering of gray and white hairs. I learned that I can play hide and seek with my cat if I gasp at her and hide behind something. I drank enough to warrant concern from some and praise from others. And mostly, I’ve kept busy while feeling guilty about not posting here enough. I love that guilt because it means I still care enough about this work to feel awful when I’m not doing it.
This post is part thank you and part promise. Thank you all for reading my weird stuff, and I promise to keep feeling guilty if I don’t do it enough.