The reasons behind me setting up this blog
I am now approaching 9861 days old. While I wouldn't say they've all been completely wasted, I have spent a considerable number of them dozing in front of my laptop; 'ideas notebook' half-heartedly propped open under a mostly empty bag of popcorn. For someone who likes to think of himself as, grandly, A Writer, I haven't exactly done a whole lot of it recently. I blame work. And popcorn. And the Good Wife for being so goddamn COMPELLING.
But will you just look at that lovely new banner. Owl. Diet coke can. STEAMING TEACUP. I'm definitely going to write stuff to go under those bad boys, thus finally ensuring I have some actual words to show for myself. Assuming, that is, I have until at least the 20,000 day mark. I have a bit of warming up to do.
On the frequent occasions I run out of popcorn and resort to wildly browsing the internet for unhealthy sources of evening entertainment, I usually find myself spitting lightly salted venom at those with the temerity to have written or produced online content more consistently than me. "BUT THEY WRITE SO BADLY," I shriek, furious at the idea that someone might learn to ignore their nagging sense of self-consciousness and choose to express themselves in their chosen field regardless. "DON'T THEY KNOW HOW SHIT THEIR INSTAGRAM CROPS ARE?!"
As my 10,000th day approaches, I have come to realise that it is I - judgemental, pale, popcorn guzzling grammar fascist - who has the problem. Once I manage to sustain an online endeavour for longer than two and a half posts I might then be in a position to judge people for doing what they enjoy; or, as is more probable, finally come to terms with the fact that a half-assed, sporadically followed lifestyle blog with my name on the top is pretty much all I want in life. I hate you, Zoella.
All this talk of days is now actually making me feel like I might die at any moment so let's just say it's been 9 years since I left school. Nine. Years. It has also, therefore, been 9 years since I lost contact with my primary sources of ego-stokeage (English teachers, peers who cared less about A+ing Biology than me, report cards). The real world has proven to be less interested in my Junior School Dux award than my 16 year old self's worst nightmares could have ever predicted.
9 bleak fucking years later and I'm almost at peace with the idea that I don't need to be showered with praise in order to keep doing anything. You see, deep down, I sort of already know I can occasionally be funny and have the potential to create things that other people might slightly enjoy. Rather than endlessly waiting for someone to tell me I should write a thing because I am brilliant, I am going to write a brilliant thing and wait for people to tell me what I already know - it's brilliant.
"Ross, you drew that owl? With a $5 iPad app? And you're only 26?!"
You're goddamn right I did. I was Junior School Dux 2003 for a REASON.
Like most other humans, I have opinions. Unlike most other humans, noted dictators and sociopaths aside, I cannot rest until I have forcibly dragged everyone else in line with my own changeable thinking - particularly when it comes to those towering twin obsessions, pop music and underappreciated TV shows. Look, it’s for your own good yeah?
My nearest and dearest have long learned to tune out whenever I start droning on about Michelle Branch, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or that episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with Michelle Branch in it. Happily, as I first discovered back in 2002 with my first B*Witched fansite, the internet is always open for business. All you need is but a workable knowledge of HTML and a drunkenly purchased hosting plan.
So long as Warner Brothers refuse to release West Coast Time; until Ugly Betty is recommissioned as a one-off movie; unless Radio 1 finally admit they were wrong not to playlist Sinead Quinn’s What You Need Is - I will continue pushing my 100% correct opinions on the world, through the admittedly ineffective medium of BLOG. What’s left of the Fame Academy alumni need me.
Many things bring me happiness, the majority of which can be summarised under three, less than positive groupings - unhealthy (doughnuts, Kettle Chips, margaritas), unproductive (Netflix, The Sims, reading through my own outbox) and unseemly (karaoke).
Waffling on about these things on the internet though? Even in the knowledge that I’m usually the only person to ever read back and laugh to myself? Calorie, guilt and cringe (ish)-free. I’m A Writer, remember, and sometimes the best reason is your own amusement.
Other than jealousy, obviously.