What am I doing here?
see also: Hi- I'm back! But seriously, wtf am I doing here?
As in, what exactly do I want from this space? What do you want from me in this space? Substack makes you categorize your work here and I didn’t know what to pick. I used to be a blogger, way way way back in the day, when blogs were still considered cool. (Was there ever actually a day like that or did us bloggers just fool ourselves into believing such things?) So when I set up in this space I figured it would be more of the same. But it’s been so long and I don’t actually know what “more of the same” is, because “more of the same” is essentially the essence of who is “me”, and if we open that can of worms we will be here forever, so how do I categorize myself? I envisioned this space being a homogenous mixture of various things - essays, musings on reality, jokes, recipes, perhaps the occasional podcast if I ever move somewhere with less background noise because I like to think that other people like the sound of my voice as much as I do. Let’s be honest, this space is mostly filled with run-on sentences. I was aiming for a mixture of McSweeny’s humor, the reliability and relatability of smittenkitchen recipes, and the authenticity of … (I got stuck here - maybe you can fill in this space? What exudes authenticity to you?) Yeah, whatever that is.
What do you do when you’re an aspiring writer (ha! as if!) who has the memory of a spring mattress? That is to say, big things imprint themselves over time, but everything else gets lost and forgotten. (Yes, I’m making a spring/memory foam mattress joke. No, it’s not great, it really isn’t. I mean I just had to call out that it’s exactly what I was doing, lest you missed that part. Really.) How exactly does that amount to recount-able story-worthy material? Such is the life of a perpetual procrastinator - the right words always come at the wrong times, like when I’m sitting in traffic or on the toilet. But by the time my butt hits that desk chair, my eyes are facing the bright screen, and the pads of my fingers hover above asdfjkl; it’s as if my brain has turned to mush and all that amazing stuff that was just in there is suddenly lost to the world.
So yep - hi! It’s Monday morning here where I am currently and I started this post/essay/thinkthingamabob months ago where it’s just been sitting in my drafts, along with a few others of equal buffoonery… just waiting for the “right” time to finish and publish. No time like the present, right? Thank you for coming to my Substack Existential Crisis. All of this to say, I’m here- I am! I’m still slowly figuring out what “here” means for me, well, here. And if you’re along for the ride, I can’t tell you where we’re going but I promise it will be a fun one at the very least. So thanks for being here with me, friend.