Day One

I’m a cranky bitch. 

That’s an odd way to start a blog, but I feel like it should be stated from the beginning so that no one has any illusions about me. 

I don’t mean that I’m generally miserable, or deliberately unkind. More that I don’t seem to like the same things most other people do. It would be easy to say “most other women,” because I do seem to have less in common with other female-identifying people in my social circles, but I don’t want to generalize. I just don’t seem to fit anywhere, and it seems to make me unhappy, unapproachable, or just unpleasant. 

Let me give some examples.

I’m not an animal lover. I’m not an animal hater either, more of an “oh, it’s an animal, that’s nice” kind of person. I’m allergic to some and generally not interested in most. Even the mythical ones.

I’m not a foodie or a coffee drinker. Much to my husband’s dismay. I also don’t cook, about which he’s even more unhappy. I’ve spent much of my life avoiding things by telling people outright that I don’t like them, even when I’ve never even tried them. As a kid, this was useful for avoiding foods I didn’t want to try, like shrimp, salmon, or sushi (or generally any seafood or Asian-style food). As an adult, I can’t remember now if I actually dislike these things or just never wanted to be forced to eat them. I can truthfully say that I still hate shrimp and salmon, but it turns out I like Vietnamese food and whatever Panda Express sells. Sushi is starting to grow on me as well.

I don’t read much popular fiction. I’m more into the legal/crime/military/political thriller genre. Basically, I’m more into stereotypical “guy stuff” than “chick lit.” I’m branching out now into some nonfiction. Mostly about crime and politics.

I don’t enjoy much of the “popular” media either, being more of a obsessive fandom kind of girl: Twin Peaks, The X Files, Buffy, Supernatural. Twilight. Star Wars. Titanic (the ship, not the movie). Harry Potter (yes, I know what JKR has said lately. I choose to separate the parent from the child).

I don’t enjoy sewing, knitting, crocheting, or pretty much any domestic hobby. I do like to draw and to write, but I usually end up coloring and reading instead. I want to be creative, but I lack imagination. My best writing was a brief stint of fan fiction, because you already have the basic elements, you just have to move the characters around in new situations. Then again, a lot of my fanfic was retelling my own real-life experiences using the author’s existing characterizations—with a lot of sex thrown in for popular appeal. Apparently I do have an active sexual imagination. On paper.

I love watching renovation shows, but lately I only seem to be compiling lists of the things I hate: double-sided sinks; barn doors; huge artsy letters/words/signs; the colors gray, white, yellow, or orange and most shades of blue; wallpaper; open kitchen shelving or cabinets with glass doors; exposed mechanicals; brass or gold hardware; and anything considered “modern.” I long for the day when I have a home I can start sledgehammering into a dark, wood-rich craftsman style with a huge porch and a lot of built ins. A LOT of built ins. I have a lot of books.

Being picky and miserable got me out of doing a lot of things I feared would make me look awkward or at which I could fail. Failure is my biggest fear and biggest obstacle. I’m a perfectionist plagued by imposter syndrome. If I don’t excel at something (or think I will excel at something) on the first try, the fear of failing, of looking bad or awkward, or of being laughed at for even trying will stop me before I begin.

So what’s my point? Well, first of all, you should also know that I tend to run on. I’m an editor by trade, so I obsess over every word, stress over any typo, and rephrase things a dozen times, probably even weeks after I post them. Again, I fear making a mistake, even the most inconsequential. I also fear being misunderstood or unintentionally offending someone. Most of all, I fear boring everyone so much that all of my writing will require TL;DRs at the outset.

My point is, this is my blog, and I’ll do my best not to be “me” while trying to be as much “myself” as I can be. I just beg your forebearance and forgiveness while I try to find my voice. It’s taken me weeks to find enough backbone to get even this far.

TL; DR: I’m a geek. I’m insecure, neurotic, generally awkward, and tend to run on and on. Welcome to my mud puddle.


One Comment

  1. I look forward to joining you again in your mud puddle soon.


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