Sharing is caring, and also terrifying

Sharing is caring, and also terrifying

I don’t share my writing with people I know in real life. I just don’t. Writing is my art. It’s a release of emotions and thoughts scattered unto a page that occasionally reads like three year old’s artwork and sometimes like I could be the next Pablo Picasso or Diego Velázquez. On Saturday, I took a leap and decided to share my my response to the “23 Things To Do Instead of Getting Engaged Before You’re 23” on Facebook. Mostly I felt like passing out when I clicked on the dreaded “post” button. But within about fifteen minutes, I was receiving feedback and my blog was booming.

By the end of the day I had received 248 views and 138 visitors. I do not have a viral blog. It’s me and a few loyal readers whose websites I also read loyally and comment about as often as they do. 248 views is a big deal for me. When I called my mom in excitement, she wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I’ve been reading your writing for years. I’ve always known you’re a fantastic writer.”

This post is not about to be me patting myself on the back over and over.

It’s a THANK YOU, to my family, friends, acquaintances, relatives, and anyone else who took the time to read my rather long response on a topic I feel strongly about. I have never felt so vulnerable, sharing a link to my blog with so many people who know me in real life. They know who I am in person, but knowing me through my writing is so very different. I use words as an expression for everything. The person I am when you meet me can be much different than the girl you can discover through my blogs, essays throughout high school and college, and short stories I’ve written for as long as I can remember.

And when I say as long as I can remember, I mean one of my earliest memories is me asking my mom what I should write about and her replying, “Write about what you know.” I have three ring binders filled with fantasy adventures and plot lines I had created. I was a strange child. I’m sure my sisters can testify. I used to mow the lawn, practice dribbling my basketball, and walk our dogs with stories and scenarios buzzing in my mind, sometimes mentioning them aloud just to hear how they sounded.

Ironically enough, most of the stories in my head stopped once I began to truly live my own. Getting my license, exploring more of the world on trips with friends, taking part in the adult conversations about current events and politics, falling in love, starting college, moving 3,000 miles away from home. I don’t really need to write the perfect story anymore. I’m living it. But the thoughts, ideas, and emotions are all still there and begging to be written down.

Hence, this blog. It’s a compilation of my life really. It’s my own little story told through opinions and adventures and the occasional picture. So thank you for taking a peek inside and considering what I have to say.

Outside of excitement over my first successful blog post, my husband and I had an amazing Sunday skiing. He rented skis for the first time ever and of course, he was as good as me by the end of the day. I swear this guy isn’t bad at anything. I, on the other hand, attempted snowboarding last March and was so frustrated after an hour I begged the rental folks to let me switch to skis for no charge. They pitied me. Thankfully.

Here are a few shots from our day:

My favorite of the husband. Taken with my iPhone. Alaska is unreal.
We’re cold nerds. What of it.



“Take chances, make mistakes. That’s how you grow. Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave.”

– Mary Tyler Moore 

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