Can you write a memoir before age 30? Hell yes, you can. Especially when it sure as hell beats staring in the mirror at all of my silver gray hairs and attempting to pluck them from my head. Every. Single. Time. Seriously. It’s that serious. Sometimes, I stare in the mirror for 15 minutes in an effort to rid myself of the aging process.
As the way of the world is now digital, why go through all of the trouble of writing everything, then waiting months or even years for it to get published (if it ever gets published) when I can do it right here, right now. Whenever I freaking want to. Plus there’s no editor telling me I use too many commas. I like my commas. I like commas. And periods. And starting sentences with the word, “and.” Unless, of course, some wonderful publisher happens upon this blog and wants to publish my stuff. Then I would probably be willing to modify the use of commas and all of the other concessions that we could discuss. I’m down. (I want to whisper “call me” and point to an invisible phone in my hand).
Besides, as I begin my written journey, I’m currently unemployed (thanks to a certain company that I used to be employed by) and I need something a little more practical than Bloons Tower Defense 5, Solitaire Blitz, and Plants Vs. Zombies to use up the time that I’m not spending hunting for the perfect copywriting job and writing a little freelance copy.
So I’ll start with the important stuff. About me. And my chubby childhood. (OK and my chubby adulthood). Ok, let’s just go with this blog. And why I’m writing it. This year I will literally be pushing thirty. As May 30 is now here, I will begin the final year of my twenties. My 30th birthday, coming in 2013, will also be a celebration of my golden birthday. I remember when it seemed like an eternity away (when 30 WASN’T my scary age), but now it just seems like it’s coming much too quickly. With almost 30 years of stories and memories: some sad, some happy, some strange, some a little drunk, and some just perfect, I’ve got quite enough to write until my thirtieth birthday.
I spent the better part of my childhood as the fat kid, and even though I eventually grew into my own skin, I still sometimes feel like the fat kid. I know, I know…I’m not supposed to say “fat,” but really, that’s what I know. Not to worry, a few months of Weight Watchers and I’m on the right track to greatness (and my ideal weight/size–which will not render me twig-like scout’s honor) and will of course lead to that ideal weight by the aforementioned 30th birthday.
I’ll be honest; I’ve never seen a blog through to completion. My longest running blogs were a personal daily blog on gasp Myspace and a foodie blog, which documents my love affair with breakfast. Neither of which are currently in production. Maybe I’ll be adding to the breakfast blog of joy soon. We’ll see.
Anyways, I’m very much looking forward to sharing my life with the world, and hope that you enjoy the journey as much as I do. As a side note, all names have been changed to protect the guilty…or the innocent…or me. So if you’re reading this…and you know the story is about you…relax. No one else does.