Congratulations! You are one of the lucky few who can say that they were around to witness the maiden entry of the Monsterawr Blog! What a historic day! What a wonderful affirmation of the glory of mankind! Were we all so lucky!
If you’re still reading, it’s probably either because you’re my mother…hi mom..or wondering who the hell I think I am and what makes me think that anyone gives a rat’s hind end. What are my credentials? What life experiences do I posses that make this blog valuable to society? What does this blog say other than that I had $50 and could figure out how to find godaddy.com?
None, I don’t have any, and actually I had a coupon, so it was only $47. I’m an out of work dancer/theatrical electrician with a part-time job in a high-end Atlanta retail store and only 7 months outside of the college bubble. That’s credible, right?
Really, I’m not quite sure what has possessed me to begin this narrative. It began with my husband, Kyle. Actually, that’s a lie. It began with a meltdown; one of those “my life has no direction and no one’s ever going to hire me because I have no talent and my degree is useless and I’m going to be working retail forever” breakdowns that recent graduates with a degree in theatre are wont to have every couple of months. Or maybe that’s just me…
At any rate. In that rare lull between the end of my sobbing and my fourth beer, where Kyle and I sit on the couch and talk quietly and return to some semblence of normality, Kyle suggests that I start a blog. Now, this is not a new suggestion. This is one Kyle’s been pitching for about a month now. For some reason, he thinks I’m a writer. I’m not sure if it’s the 14 journals that I’ve filled since the 5th grade, the 2 publications that feature my haiku, or the scathing Post-it notes that I leave on top of the piles of laundry that he hasn’t put away, but somehow he got this idea in his head that I’m a great writer. Even more ridiculous is his notion that people would be interested to hear what I have to say. The optomist in me thinks that maybe it’s because he gets so much enjoyment out of my little stories and rants that he thinks other people would love them too. The realist in me thinks that he’s looking for an outlet for me so that I’ll stop saving these little stories and rants to be let out when he gets home from work. Or even worse, Meltdown Day.
Blame it on the shattered state of my emotions, but for some reason it actually sounded like a good idea this time. I mean, it’s true that I’ve always loved writing, and I am just narcissistic enough to think that people might find me interesting. Besides, after almost 5 months of living in Atlanta I have yet to make any real friends that I can share with, and let’s face it, even the cats are sick of listening to me explain why Paula Deen should have her head held down in a bucket of melted butter. (That’s another post altogether.)
So maybe this blog wasn’t such a terrible idea. It might even be good for me. And if someone besides my mother finds it interesting, all the better.
Welcome to MonsteRawr.