“But what would you even write about? Living alone with your dogs? How much you love coffee? People wouldn’t want to read about boring stuff like that.” A few years ago, my then boyfriend said this to me as we spent another Saturday afternoon running errands together. I had been talking about how I wanted to start a blog for years and toyed with the idea in my head for a long time. For the past several years I’d been frequently journaling on the satisfyingly smooth pages of my moleskin notebooks. Each entry was written as if someone would eventually read them anyway. Even though I would likely die if such a thing were to happen. I knew I wasn’t some exciting world traveller with a new adventure lined up every month. I’m not exactly well travelled nor do I live a groundbreakingly exciting life. But to my knowledge (and obviously not to his), you didn’t have to be these things to write a blog. AND BTW, Mr. Put-Your-Gf-Down, I posted all the time about my weekend adventures with my sister at my cousin’s house on my Xanga (anyone remember Xanga?!) back in the day and plenty of people logged in to have a read from the edge of their seats! I have things to say and thoughts to share (and great photos to lure you in). I love writing. I love making food. I love taking awesome pictures. So if even one person tunes in every now and then and finds even an ounce of joy here, then GREAT.
So even though I didn’t agree with Mr. Unsupportive, I let his opinion completely squash my own. I started to believe what he said was probably true and just didn’t bother to give it much thought afterward.
But since then, I’ve rid myself of disapproving (and obviously uncreative) boyfriends and decided that if I want to do something, I should just go for it!
It was August 26th. It was an unforgiving 93 degrees out and not a single cloud to offer its mercy. The back of my thighs peeled away from my carseat as I stepped out into the parking lot. Then, because my ray-ban sunglasses served the sole purpose of holding back my lion’s mane, I squinted my way into Target. I pulled out a big red kart, knowing that the “sea salt flakes” and “unsalted butter” on my list weren’t the only things leaving with me that day. I’ve made that mistake a few too many times, limping along with a basket full of (very necessary) items, praying to come by an abandoned, empty kart. Strolling in, I pushed my kart towards the front “cheap” section (which I just found out is called ‘Bullseye’s Playground’, how cute!). I spotted mini decorative pumpkins. Then I saw all the orange and black and green of halloween treat bags and buckets. My hand levitated towards a “hello fall” mug and as I caressed it, as I do with all my mugs, I wondered if I had blacked out from a heat stroke and woke up inside Target in perhaps, October?
Nope. It was August and everyone’s favorite time of year was quickly approaching. I decided to recount this story because although summertime will always be the best time, I can’t deny that fall brings about the coziest and warmest feelings, with all its spiced goods and crunchy leaves and damned mosquitos starting to die. The increasingly cool air is always filled with strong hints of nostalgia. I feel like a kid, counting down the days until I can bother strangers and take their candy. All these great feelings of inspiration and creativity and no where to pour them.
It was fall in Target and I am finally starting my blog.