Real talk

True confession: sometimes I edit or delete posts that make me seem too vulnerable, or lonely, or scared or sad or messy or dumb. The ones that show the faces I don’t want the world to see. They're honest faces, but of course I'm as much a fraud as everybody else on the internet or the planet and prefer to tuck the garbage away. But the garbage follows. This is called—no surprise—life.

I’m not a great thinker or a comedian or a copyblogger or a productivity hack or Oprah living her best life, but I do process things by writing them down and for some reason I like to write them down here, on this stupid blog, which is akin to stripping behind a one-way mirror: you can convince yourself pretty easily that there's nobody out there watching, which is an enormous lie. Even if it's only 20 people watching, naked is naked, man! And every single thing I write here reveals more than I intend it to. But I think that's okay. It's okay to stumble along. I’m just one chick who’s had a pretty easy time of it, all things considered, but I'm still looking for a way through. Just like everybody else on the internet or the planet. So I’ll keep trying, and I’ll keep showing up. I mean honestly, where else would I go?