And against my better judgement.
My ultimate goal with blogging is not to always talk about blogging, but given that I post every day, I think about it a lot. Blogging often gives me anxiety. I came here today after a day off, excited to write a post about my love for puzzles. What stopped my joy was my analytics.
I have a lot of mixed feelings about blogging. I wrote my first ever blog post back in 2000 or so. I complained about these kids I had to babysit. I found it on the Wayback Machine and had a good laugh. I’ve been writing ever since then, with the majority of my posts actually being on LiveJournal. I started Those Graces/Road Darling in 2010, around the time bloggers started getting book deals and movies made about them.
This little thing I started doing on the Internet when I was 14 turned into a real profession. For a long time I thought I wanted to be A Full-Time Blogger, but when I quit my job a few years ago to try it, I found that I hated it. Turning my hobby into a job was a bad idea, so I went back to a “real” job.
Over the years I’ve met many women (and some men, too) who blog as a job or at least a steady income source. I’ve seen a lot of them worry about analytics and follower counts. From time to time I’ve told them, “You know this is supposed to be fun, right?” The way they worry doesn’t seem like fun. It looks like hell.
About two years ago, I deleted my blog for 6 months because I was just done with it. Ultimately I decided to un-delete my blog, and since then I haven’t tried to make it a job or even a source of income. When I find myself worrying, like today, about bounce rates and visits, I remind myself that THIS IS A HOBBY! I am choosing to do this over other things, because for whatever reason, I like it. I’ve kept a journal since I was 12-years-old, so maybe in a way I see myself more as a diarist that a blogger.
Do friend breakups ever get easier? Jury’s still out, but I’m tempted to say yes. I wrote about my first ever friend breakup in in 2011. Honestly I don’t remember why this girl and I stopped being friends. At the time, I remember it all felt very dramatic. Even now, I’m not sure if I’d rekindle the friendship, but I like her well enough that I follow her on Instagram. Oh, modern technology, confusing everything.
Since then I had two other friend breakups that happened around the same time I split from my ex, so as you can probably imagine, it’s very easy to remember why those friendships ended. I’m currently going through what will probably become another friend breakup, but this time it’s over why I’m hurt by this person.
As I age, I realize that even though friend breakups do get easier, they are often more difficult than romantic breakups.
It wasn’t until this past year that I realized friend breakups are part of life. I came to this conclusion after watching many episodes of Wendy Williams, who has talked openly about losing friends. She’s a big believer in the fact that we all have a finite time in any given day and it shouldn’t be wasted on people who are bringing you pain. In Wendy’s world, she shows them the door, ride or die style.
Before I thought a lot about my friend breakups, but now they taken up less space in my mind. As I near 30, my bullshit detector has gotten better, and when it goes off, I listen to it. I think the toughest times in our lives reveal who’s a true friend. This is not to say someone is bad for not being a true friend. They just aren’t a friend and that’s that. It’s easy to be a good friend when times are easy, but easy times say nothing about who a person truly is at the end of the day.
I used to think friend breakups were the end of the world, but the truth is, they aren’t. One or two (or more) people exiting your life means there’s more time for other people to enter it. At the end of the day, we only have so much time and it’s just a numbers game of to spend it with.
My heart is so heavy tonight.
Can we all agree that skinny jeans are the worst? And by the worst, I mean the best. How is that even possible? Oh, skinny jeans, how you confound me!
These thoughts went through my mind while putting on a pair of skinny jeans this morning. The jeans in question had just come out of the dryer, which was basically my first problem. Squeezing into a pair of freshly washed skinny jeans is a certain recipe for low self esteem.
These jeans barely buttoned. I’m pretty sure I had a muffin top, and lord knows I had to CTC. BUT THEY FIT YESTERDAY! Yet I still wore them because skinny jeans are amazing. My butt always looks good, so do my legs.
But why are they so painful?! Even when skinny jeans that fit perfectly are a pain to get on and an even bigger pain to get off. Both activities involved jumping around the room, often tripping along the way.
One of my biggest resentments about skinny jeans is that they are basically the only pants except leggings that look good with mid-calf boots. What gives, other pants styles? Skinny jeans fit perfectly into boots, no bunchy, no rolling. They are perfection. Yet they are also terrible for all the reasons I mentioned above.
So as we enter into fall, yes, OK, I am wearing skinny jeans. But only begrudgingly.