…there was a girl. With a dream. That she could work 60 hours a week, plan a relatively epic wedding, try to exercise every so often, and manage a bitchin’ blog.
She had written, for herself mostly, for years, sometimes for pay, mostly for satisfaction.
She doesn’t write that much anymore, although her head is constantly full of things to say. She hates having to bite her tongue and she is required to do it constantly. Sometimes it drives her to drink, but mostly it drives her to eat greasy foods and sit on the couch, watching & re-watching way too much 30 Rock.
She does best at everything when she has the chance to express herself.
She has a trail of half-attempted websites, leftover geocities mirrors, and meagerly updated blogs littered across the internet. But don’t we all? (And aren’t we all grateful that we facebook didn’t exist in the late 90s? I sure as hell am.)
But she’s going to try again.
So she’s picking up this attempt because it was a pretty good idea to begin with, and running with it.