Seattle adventures, life, home, and coffee—in no particular order
Call it cabin fever. Call it fever-induced delirium. Call it what you will, but something prompted me tonight to create, from the confines of my sick-bed, my first blog.
I could blame this bout of self-important indulgence on my cousin, who earlier today asked for a narrative I wrote after visiting our family in Ireland. Her request sent me digging through old files, discovering poems, essays, and unsent letters to ex-boyfriends. Those discoveries reminded me that no matter how silly or misguided those thoughts may seem now, at the time they were everything. I was abruptly transported back to the anger/happiness/uncertainty/fill-in-the-blank-emotion I felt so completely in that brief snapshot in time. I was reminded of the night a professor took my fellow English majors and me out for margaritas after we turned in our theses; I was reminded of the sensation of running across a dirt floor covered in fire-ants, and jumping breathlessly into a strange Jamaican bed; I was reminded just how impossible it seemed for life to go on after my ex-boyfriend inexplicably broke things off. More than reminded- I was there.
By now you’ve probably pegged me as the type who painstakingly kept a journal of her exploits, and it’s an accusation I won’t deny. I wasn’t religious about my writing, but I did record the things that meant something to me as I went about my little life. And somewhere along the way, in my world of compulsive status updates and multi-tasking, that dropped off.
So here’s the thing, this blog is mostly an electronic revival of my former journal. I hope you’ll read it, but even if you don’t, there’ll be value for me in these posts, and my little life will keep on living.
See you again soon?