I'm sure there's some unwritten rule of blogging (actually, considering the medium, it is mostly likely a written rule) that one should never start a blog when one is feeling utterly defeated and uninspired. Yet, here I am, on a defeating and uninspiring Wednesday morning, slowly typing out my thoughts on this terrifyingly long page. I realize that the the size of the page is dictated and therefore contained by the finite size of my computer monitor, but it seems never-ending, and the white of the blank screen is making me go a little cross-eyed. The most distracting thing about a white computer screen is that it's not truly white; it is not the absence of color, but rather thousands of small square boxes that flicker in tinges of green and purple. The bright light also draws attention to all those strange, translucent bits of things that float in front of, or rather on, your eyeball. When I was younger, I used to think that they were atoms, and that I possessed the unique but seemingly useless ability to see them. When they meandered across my line of vision, I was reminded of how special I was, whereas now they are merely an annoying reminder of my ordinariness. It does not raise me to the god-like status of being able to see that which cannot be seen, but rather grounds me firmly in the world of mere mortals who blink and get dust in their eyes.

So, with crossed and dusty eyes, I begin my first blog post. I'm not sure if one is supposed to outline one's "blog goals" in the first post, but unfortunately I have no cutesy theme or challenge to guide me. This is merely my desperate attempt to have some sort of artistic outlet, some way of holding onto the intelligence and creativity that I feel slipping through my fingers with every second I spend watching "Dancing with the Stars" or drinking until everything gets pleasingly warm and fuzzy. This will be my dumping ground for my thoughts, complaints, delights, observations, rants, whines, rambles, accomplishments, decomplishments, to-do lists and to-never-do-again lists. And when I say dumping ground, I mean that quite literally, as most of this will most likely be garbage. But hey, some people find garbage pleasing, or at least interesting, and perhaps there will be some scraps of once-great or future-great ideas. If nothing else, this is something concrete that I can do for myself so that I'll stop googling "can people become stupid" and "how to avoid stupidity" (don't bother -- there's no good advice). Maybe years from now, when I'm snuggled on some expensively comfortable couch, drinking a glass of red wine after spending the day at my job as something-fulfilling-and-challenging-and-useful-to-the-world, I'll find the worries of my twenty-three-year old self adorably quaint, though I'll find the writing style embarrassingly clumsy. I may even patronize my younger self by laughingly reading the most ridiculous sections to my boyfriend/girlfriend/friend/cat/empty apartment (who are we kidding). I will find incredible comfort in the distance, both in years and in lifestyle and temperament, from my younger self, and my (hopefully fabulous) life will seem even better in the comparison.