I like the idea of accountability. This is because I am the type of girl that without a deadline or a purpose might end up wandering lost out here on the internet, ending up in a bad place (not porno bad but clearance section of Anthropologie bad, or “vintage jewelry” “mid-century modern sideboard” eBay search bad, scanning endlessly on etsy bad) I mean a gal has to be careful out here. Chances are I may not end up with nude photos circulating the internet but I might accidentally end up with (another) lot of vintage cocktail rings 14 out of 15 of which go unused and unloved, another chip off the old paypal account. I need a purpose. I need a deadline. If you give me a task, I will diligently search, research and execute same, bringing you the results in an organized manner. I like direction. I like school work I need a due date or else I flounder. While most of us normal adults are relieved that the days of assignments hanging over our heads are done with and school is over, I miss the crap out of it. If someone anonymously emailed me and gave me a paper to research and write I would just straight up dig it. It’s sickening, I realize. I crave lists with dates. Making a to-do list is one of my all time favorite things to do in the whole entire world. In fact, I secretly add items to my to-do list that I have already finished with just to get that satisfying jolt of accomplishment as my fine point marker x’s it off the list.
All this brings me to writing. I used to write for me; or, rather, I used to write things that I was interested in and proud of at the very least. These days, besides the aforementioned to-do list the only things I write are for lawyers and judges and clerk’s office employees, office memos with strongly worded instructions to the rest of the staff on how to properly recycle paper. I used to write about TV shows and public radio and Public Enemy. It was pretty cool or at least by comparison a heck of a lot cooler than writing breach of contract lawsuits. I’m not gonna lie here; I have never been much of a creative writer. Early attempts at journaling always ended in later sessions of ripping out the pages mortified at the idea of my awkward adolescent musings being saved for posterity. I always hated the way I tried when I wrote to sound smarter and more intuitive then I really was…writing in journals was for people that took themselves too seriously and I didn’t want to fall into that category. Writing for school purposes suited me because not only was I getting tangible results, in my own words, I also didn’t have to look back and cringe at my writing. It wasn’t personal. I took the facts, I analyzed, I put my spin on it and I was quite often, pretty interested in what I would come up with.
Lately, I haven’t been happy writing. I mean, I can not actually even call what I do day to day writing. It’s typing really. The kind of old fashioned typing that makes me wish I had more sweater sets and high wasted skirts. Lately, the only time I have felt truly satisfied has been when I have been cooking something. Following directions, measuring, stirring, chopping, all of it has become my obsession. Food. Reading about it, talking about it, planning and plotting around it. I have always been a food lover and dabbled in cooking but lately it’s been all-consuming. So, having been a faithful reader of some truly inspiring (food related) blogs as of late, I figured why shouldn’t I try it. The idea of writing my own blog strikes me as more than a little self-indulgent so I am hesitant and shy and I will be totally forthcoming in that I don’t think I’m the best writer around or even in the top half…but I need a purpose and a deadline and some accountability. I figured I could start here. If I just went ahead and signed up to create my own blog it would in the very least accomplish two things for me (1) get me to get my butt in the kitchen and make some food and (2) write something that interests me and that (hopefully) down the line won’t make me cringe. So here I am. Giddy up!