Tonight I gave some dear friends a ride home from the airport. Their flight got in around 11:45pm and true to form I arrived much earlier than I expected I would. Fortunately for me, O’Hare is nothing like LAX and I sat in my car outside the terminal for at least twenty minutes before I was shooed off to make my second lap.
I had a decent amount of time to sit and think and found myself feeling especially reflective. I love love love to reminisce, so it was scrolling through my very oldest of blog posts that I came across some words from my 22-year-old self that perhaps my 25-year-old self needed to see:
“I’m a blogfectionist. A blogfectionist, in case you haven’t heard, is a perfectionistic blogger. I’m afraid the reason I never blog is due to the fact that I always spend a criminy-dutch-load of time making sure I’ve written something witty that people will think I wrote in a mere few minutes. Sometimes I sit in front of my computer trying to figure out a clever title for a blog post I have in my head and end up forgetting the post all together because nothing I can think of sounds quite catchy enough.
Well, friends. I’ve had an epiphany. I realized three things one day:
1. My original goal was to start a blog so as to encourage myself to write on a regular basis (not to construct lengthy blog posts that will make people think I’m great).
2. I think there are maybe four people tops who regularly check out my blog.
3. Those people already think I’m great.”
Good call, self. Writing is good for me. Good for the skillz, good for the soul, and good for my future self. Let’s keep this up in 2012, shall we?