Why We're All Gathered Here Today

I've been thinking a lot lately about why I write this blog and what it's supposed to mean. Let's face it, there are trillions of blogs out there (I read a fair number of them), and in trying to decide if I really want to start publicizing this blog (mainly to drum up freelance writing work and buyers for my photographs), I've been ruminating on 'what it all means, man.'

I love writing. I love getting my thoughts out. And even though I'm not very vocal in person, I love the idea that someone, somewhere is listening to me. CITYGIRL started because, frankly, everyone else was doing it and I'd grown tired of the standard method of journaling. At the time I was really active on FLICKR, feeling more involved in life and starting to get out more offline as well. I wanted to connect with folks more; the internet was making that a lot easier for my shy-ass self.

It boils down to this: CITYGIRL makes me feel connected. I've gotten a bit of flack for complaining/not grabbing life by the balls/dwelling on the negative/dot dot dot/xyz, and here's the thing: I don't care. This is my personal journal. I talk about my life. Ups, downs, in-betweens, mistakes, triumphs, confusions and delusions, one and all.

What benefit does that have for you, the average blog reader who could pour themselves into a myriad of inspirational, designy, self-helpy, feel-good-all-the-time blogs? It's this: YOU ARE NOT ALONE. As much as I love being inspired, seeing beautiful things, helping myself and feeling good, life doesn't always bring the beauty full time, no matter how hard we may try to get it to do just that or attempt to always see the silver lining.

I want my readers to know that they can come here in their darkest hour and see someone else who has:

1. Waited way too long to leave a job she hated
2. Found solace in a lonely grocery store isle so she could fart in peace, only to have to abandon it quickly when a stranger interrupted her gassy session
3. Been unemployed for almost three years
4. Lived on beans and rice for a full week
5. Traveled alone and loved it
6. Let yet another job she hated make her actually, physically ill
7. Taken jobs just to make money
8. Had heavy periods
9. Waited until she was 31 to have sex
10. Refused to date because it seemed like too much bullshit
11. Eaten too much chocolate
12. Gotten too overweight
13. Driven back from an Ikea road trip with a rented SUV filled so full she couldn't see out any windows but the front...in a torrential rain storm
14. Sat on the couch for too many hours on too many days in a row
15. Racked up way too much credit card debt
16. Never really felt very feminine, despite her totally committed love of pink, purple, purses, shoes, clothes, makeup and sparkly things
17. Refused to budget and made lame attempts to build up a savings account
18. Taken only 3 airplane trips in her entire life (NYC, Austin TX and Las Vegas)
19. Loved too many kitty cats
20. Given up or delayed acting on too many dreams
21. Lived life in fits and starts
22. Been afraid to go to parties
23. Cried so hard as she crossed the street she almost got hit by a car
24. Been so depressed nothing mattered, not even herself
25. Had a maxi pad flip over during the day so that she had to cut it out to change it
26. Gotten angry when friends and family don't stand up for themselves
27. Given good advice but failed, continually, to use that good advice in her own life
28. Not wanted to have kids
29. Tried to start her own business/work as a freelance writer/sell her creative wares with low overhead
30. Lived a wonderful, yet mistake filled life

This is what it's about for me: letting others know they're not alone in their weirdness, failings, fumblings, consternations, joys, miseries and downright freakishness. I'm there, too! And even if I don't hear from you, I know you're out there. I feel less alone, hopefully you feel less alone too and we can all ride off into the burnt amber sunset together.

Yay!

Internet Anonymity Strikes Again

A few weeks ago I asked for advice. A guy named Neal, who's never commented on my blog before, popped up with some choice words for me. I tried to find out a little bit about Neal, but his profile is private so who knows what the dude is all about. But, he does not seem to like me.

Anyway, he's now commented twice on my blog and I think he's way off about a lot of stuff. You can read his words after this post and this one, but below I've highlighted (in italics) some of the things he said and why I think he's wrong. Let's go.

That precious image you've carried of yourself all these many years, the gay, fun-loving life, the social whirl, being admired for your accomplishments, being the center of attention, having it all revolve around you . . . And now confronted by the reality of being 35 and it ain't nothin' like that.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Neal, you obviously don't know as much about me as you think you do. I have absolutely never been a part of any social whirl or the center of attention to anyone but my mom when I was a kid. Nothing has ever "revolved around" me and I've never been anything, admittedly, but slightly above average in most respects. I've always been firmly sure of my reality in this world, which doesn't mean I can't change it. We're not working with a caste system here.

Nope, sorry, not true. That's the fourteen-year-old speaking, the child who's convinced the world revolves around her dreams.

So, because I have dreams that makes me a child? God, you're pretentious. Congratulations on apparently not having any hopes or goals for your own life, Neal. Too bad the rest of us can't be as mature as you and not want anything. If I thought the world revolved around my dreams I'd be in relentless, bloody, damn-everyone-else pursuit of them every minute of everyday. Is anyone with the desire to move beyond their current station in life a mindless child, too? I guess all the homeless people should just give up now, huh?

You're certainly not "the ultimate Jill of All Trades," so maybe you should stop saying that to yourself.

Guess what? You don't get to tell me, or anyone else, how to define themselves. I may not be famous, but I'm a fucking good writer and photographer and I do get paid for it. I'm also a painter, chef, baker, driver, listener, joke teller, collage artist and expert maker of bathing paraphernalia. Dispute all those if you wish, but you don't know me, so you can't.

Remember when you were wide-eyed and fresh and 21? You should have married a doctor, or maybe Sergi Brin or some other dork destined to be a billionaire. A little late for that, now, huh?

I don't even know what you mean here. I shouldn't have gone to college? I shouldn't attempt to do fun, interesting, enjoyable things with my life? I should have married young, spit out a bunch of kids and lived off someone else for my whole life? How dare you suggest that that's the end all be all of what I'm good for. Again, you don't know me.

I notice that when I got a job you didn't comment on that post. I guess there was too much honest joy in that one for you. By the way, I had been looking for literally any job I could get for several months by the time you suggested it. I'd applied at every store in the mall, Borders, WalMart, Best Buy and Target among others. I knew I needed any gig that would bring in any extra money. I'm not an idiot.

You also mentioned that I was "self-centered". Who else should I be centered on when I write this blog? There's no indication anywhere on the page that it's going to be about politics, global warming, world hunger, world peace, celebrity meltdowns or how everyone can analyze their handwriting. This blog is essentially my diary. Sorry, but that means it's about me and the people in my immediate circle.

This space is for me to look at what I do, don't do, think, don't think and the reasons behind it all. And, who else is going to have my best interest at heart 100% of the time no matter when or where I am? Me. Basically, my blog my rules. If you don't like my introspection feel free to leave my house.