You know that feeling when you know something has to be done? And maybe you should've done it years ago, but for a myriad of reasons you still haven't started yet. You think about starting. You've googled how to start. You know everything about how to start, but yet somehow it's always on the back side of that sticky note you wrote your to-do list on, so naturally you avoid it?? (please tell me I'm not alone in avoiding awkward beginnings)
Either way. That's me with...everything and more specifically it has been the relationship I've maintained with this blog. Because, if I'm going to be honest with you, which seems like an appropriate way to begin this, when I think 'bloggers' I think perfect women. I mean, the straight up goddess types. The ones that design, parent, run a business, write, AND have time to actually put on makeup all before the sun even thinks about rising. (shoutout to the EmHenderson types)
And here I am, 22 years of age, still in college, without cute kids to draw you in, or a portfolio of years worth of awesome clients who have let me play with their homes.
I'm still very much in the learning phase, my last few years at this place called college have been spent learning how to rearrange spaces or build them out of thin air as well as learning the new age art of luring readers to click on articles only to find that they aren't as interesting as the link advertised (aka journalism...it isn't a secret that i'm quite a bit more mentally invested in the design half of my double major, but have decided to continue down the road of journalistic splendor because #yolo)
Just because I mentioned that I am one half journalism major, does not mean the words you read will all come out correctly, or that my commas will be in the right place, much less that anything you read will be intentionally in AP style. You see, one of my favorite hobbies aside from flea market-ing of course (see, i make up verbs) is creating run-on-poorly-punctuated-sentences. (also i hate capitalization and wish it was an extinct practice)
And in that, I have no shame.
I write as I think, and maybe that would send shivers down the spine of my 7th grade grammar teacher, but to me it makes sense.
i'll grant you a break from my ramblings for now.
until next time.
// c //