When it comes to writing this blog, I’ve got to tell you, I’m terrified. I’ve always had this idea in my head that I want to write something worth reading. Or rather, I want to write something that I would want to read. Now, in all fairness, I will read anything I can get my hands on. I will read great works of literature, and then the next week read the latest teen drivel. As a child I was known to read the back of the shampoo bottle during my bath because I needed to read something. But I’ve always wanted to write something that actually moves people. Because isn’t that the greatest feeling? When you read something and the author seems to get you, and their writing touches a nerve and suddenly you realize you’re not alone and humans have been dealing with the same issues for centuries? That’s what I want my legacy to be. But that’s a pretty tall order.
When this blog was mostly a travel blog, I got a lot of comments on how great it was, and how you could hear me talking when you read it, and I always loved those compliments. But to be honest, there are only a few posts that I’m actually proud of, because most everything else was pretty skin deep. Look at this great place I went, look how yummy my food was, look at these amazing people I met. But it was all a mask. I mean sure, most of the time I was happy, exploring, and stunned by the world and the wonderful people in it. I was on the most amazing trip I am positive I will ever go on in my entire life. However, this trip was spurned by some of the deepest emotional issues I’ve dealt with to date, and I barely mentioned it. I could have delved deeper into why I decided to quit life and move to a farm in rural Italy, because let’s face it, that’s a crazy thing to do. I could have talked about the fall out in my personal life on what it looks like to abandon your relationships when you make self-centered decisions, even when you know they are the best for you. But I didn’t. In hindsight, it’s something I regret, as it could have been a huge opportunity for my personal growth and for my writing.
The point is if I’m going to make this blog something I am truly proud of, I’m going to have to get vulnerable. I’m going to have to let you, a perfect stranger, into the deepest recesses of my mind. This, in itself, is pretty frightening. However, it’s manageable, because I don’t know you. I’ll never have to look into your eyes and see you judging me. If you don’t like me, you’ll just click in that red box in the top corner of your screen. No biggie. It’s the people that I know that I’m worried about baring my soul to. It’s my friends or coworkers that might recognize one of our interactions in one of the stories I tell, or a guy I’ve dated that sees himself in my anecdote. It’s that worry that revealing a little too much of what makes you tick will make people not like you so much. And the worst of all, it’s my parents and grandparents that think they’ve raised a nice sweet girl and they find out that I’m a degenerate with emotional issues. I’m sorry Mom and Dad, but you created this independent, free-spirited, over thinker, and now you get to read my thoughts and weird escapades and it’s going to be strange. You’re most likely going to find out about things that we may have never talked about, so I hope that we can all handle this with grace and get over the weirdness just like we’ve always done: wine.
So I suppose this post is sort of like a warning label. On this website, you are going to get the unfiltered version of me. You may not like what I have to say, and that’s fine. I’m secure enough in myself to be vulnerable, and I’d be doing myself a disservice if I wasn’t true to myself and what I have to say. But I do hope that you like what I have say, that my words give you a break from your life, and that you enjoy your time here with me.