intentions.

So, I’m not actually sure what my purpose is for having this “blog” or website or whatever we want to call it. Like, I’m fairly certain that, despite its public domain versus choosing one of the MANY private apps out there for journaling, I’m not doing this for attention or notoriety. You might seem skeptical by that. I don’t blame you. For one, I just addressed YOU, the reader, as if I’m writing to you and for you. But I promise you I am not. (but thanks for being here and keeping me company nonetheless)

I think there’s a certain thrill in knowing that anyone could stumble onto this at any given time and maybe even read more than a sentence or two. It provides a certain level of motivation to write and to hopefully be thoughtful about what I write (cancel culture is real). Several years ago I took a long road trip with my two dogs and a mannequin. I was on the road for over a month, maybe close to two. And during that trip I decided to keep a blog. Not because I thought I had anything interesting to say or because I thought anyone back home would care. But because I knew I’d get lonely on the road. And having a blog seemed like an ambiguous way to keep company (I honestly don’t think I’m using that word correctly but we’ll move on). It seemed like an unobtrusive way to feel like I had company without ever really having it (or knowing if anyone was reading). Some people write for the sole purpose of obtaining an audience. They write for notoriety, for the hope of fame and recognition. They want to see their NAME in print. They write because their ego demands it. I know this because I’m related to one of those kinds of people. And to be honest, her ago and narcissism terrifies me.

I write because, if I’m disciplined enough to do it regularly, it calms my brain. It’s an outlet. It also unintentionally makes me internalize stories more. The stories of those around me, the stories of my day. I pay more attention. But circling back to my road trip blog, I was skeptical how often I would write. I was never one to keep a diary. If a college class required us to maintain a journal for the semester, I was likely to fail that class. However, knowing this road trip blog was public, was accessible by whomever was bored enough to read it, fueled something inside of me to keep writing at the end of every day. I slightly hated that my name was attached to it and that people reading it would likely know it was me and I could easily be subjected to judgment and some side-eye for a variety of reasons and in a personal way. But this time I get to be anonymous. This time I get to fart out my thoughts, pop them in a bottle, and hurl them out to sea, for anyone or no one to receive.

As an aside, I love collecting old letters. Letters you might find at estate sales or antique stores. Letters that are usually a one-sided glimpse into the relationship of these two people, the connection that compels them to write, the stories they tell each other, what they made for dinner, how much their rent costs at their new apartment, who they visited last week. It’s mundane shit but it’s fascinating to me and it sends me down rabbit holes. So maybe that’s what this is: a one-sided letter for anyone to happen upon and decide what, if anything, to take from it.

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when I’m at my worst.