Here comes the hard part.

The difficult thing about writing a personal blog (in other words, one about my thoughts, feelings, and life in general as opposed to, say, politics or horticulture or whatever) is that it becomes difficult to draw the line between what's relevant, and what is just completely banal.  As I sit here pontificating my next subject, I'm trying to stay clear of anything diary-esque.  I'm not 14, and I'm not Judy Blume. So anyways, I have to find my niche.

I still haven't completely introduced myself yet.  Since mostly anyone reading this at this point probably already knows me (until I find my incredibly intriguing and provocative niche, that is).  However, I haven't really explained why I started writing a blog in the first place.  There are a couple of reasons.

Firstly, I need to write more.  I call myself a writer, after all.  That's what I'm good at. That's what I do. But what do I have to show for it?  A whole lotta nothing.  I have newspaper clippings. I have college essays, sure.  That doesn't count, though.  I wrote more when I was 12 than I do now.  I would sit in my closet writing stories.  I would walk around my neighborhood with a composition notebook pretending to be Harriet the Spy.  So why is it that as we grow older and are actually more capable of doing the things we like, we somehow end up spending more time fantasizing about them?  Is it laziness?  I'm not sure what the real reason is, but eventually we all either have to make a change to find time for the things we love, or we just don't.  So this is my attempt to make a change.

The second reason I decided to start a blog, of all things, is that I've just had one of the most harrowing experiences of my life.  I'm not sure how in detail I should describe my experience since I would like to make lemonade from lemons, not squeeze one in my own eye, if you catch my drift, but I assure you, it was not a pretty sight.  I am a college graduate, but I am still in school, trying to finish a masters degree I'm not entirely sure I will ever really use.  I wanted to find a way to not only write about my experiences as a means to working them out and sharing them, but also talk about the kinds of things that  the newly college graduate has to deal with these days: this quarter-life crisis that many of us are going through.  So, I'll stop there for now.  I'm enjoying my week off before I begin my newest adventure next week.  More on that later.

Idioplasty?

There is so much I want to say.  There is so much inside me ready to burst onto the page (or screen, more appropriately), but I can't help but start with what is really on my mind right now: plastic surgery.  No, I'm not considering it for myself.  In fact, the thought of voluntarily going under the knife frightens the living you-know-what out of me.
Now, my roommate and I don't have cable, so when I'm given the chance to indulge on cable television, it's like a kid at fat camp given the chance to eat candy- I over-indulge (excuse the unintended irony).  I'm currently snowed in at a friends house in refuge from the snowstorm and my eyes have been glued to the television for the last 40 minutes... Get a load of this little gem: a new show on E! called Bridal-plasty, a reality television show where brides-to-be vie to win various plastic surgeries to look "their" most beautiful on their wedding day.  There are just so many things wrong here.
First of all, the fact that I have been watching this for a full 40 minutes is just so, SO wrong.  I was planning to cuddle up with a good book for the first time in months, and instead, I've been
More importantly, the problem with these women is not that they have insecurities, but almost that they are so secure with the idea of plastic surgery that they are willing to go on national television showing everyone how much plastic surgery they get, and walk around with bandages around their faces.  I can't really decide if this is a step up for society or a fall down the stairs.
These women have obviously found a life partner (or at least that is what I thought was the intention of marriage) who will love them just the way they are- so why on earth are they doing this to themselves? The catch phrase of the show seems to be that they will be given "the perfect wedding." My advice: try to work on your relationship first.  The host of the show, former Miss USA and serious reality television "floozy" Shanna Moakler, feigns marriage competency and promises this "perfect wedding" to these poor women.  Does no one else remember her very public and very short-lived marriage to drummer Travis Barker?  Need I say more?
We are women.  In America.  In soon-to-be 2011.  Have we really come such a little way that we are defining ourselves by our looks and our marital status. E!pic  Fail.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

I've wanted to start a blog for a while, but only hesitated out of fear, I think.  This isn't a diary- this is the world wide web (if it's even still okay to call it that) and every word I write will be forever cast into the universe, bounced off satellites into the homes of whoever wishes to read, or accidentally stumbles upon, this blog.  Then again, what is sacred these days?  Isn't what we admire about others their ability to put themselves "out there"?  So I'm deciding to join the game and see how it feels to make myself vulnerable, and do what I do best: write.