chatting, life

Blogathonfest 98

On the weekend I declared over a daytime beer that I was going to blog every day for a solid month. A blogathon. Blog challenge. Blogfest 98. In my head this was an earth-shattering life-altering suggestion, but Ashton just shrugged his shoulders at me like, sure, why not? Ok? Are we still talking about this? You mean like, writing some bullshit on WordPress and clicking go? This is what we’re discussing?

Let’s keep some perspective, friends.

As far as declarations go, this isn’t that big. “I’m not going to drink this month” or “I’m going to quit my job and become an accountant” are bigger declarations; which I would know, as I have made both of those declarations this year too.

(I’ve since dropped my accountant dreams. I just wanted to play in Excel all day, but apparently accountants don’t really do that? Thanks to everyone who popped THAT little fantasy bubble, you dickheads. And I have quit drinking for short bursts this year, a few times; which I would recommend 100% to remind yourself that beer is not a personality. But I digress.)

Last week, before my Blogathon declaration, I had looked at myself in the mirror for a little self-chat after a few drinks. “Kate! You are SO pretty. You should WRITE more”, I said. (Beer goggles, apparently, don’t just apply to other people). If I can muster all the bravado and courage to blog when I’m tipsy, then why not do it sober?

I do have a lot more courage and bravado after a drink, though. Choices.

And look, I know that it is becoming a habit to write a blog post where I burst into the room with an excess of glee, declaring I am BACK and oh GOSH isn’t it lovely to have a BLOG and ohh hoo, this won’t be like the last time, this is the first in a long series of posts! And then I promptly leave it for a year, or two, then do the same thing again. I love the idea of a lone reader, sitting in the dark in a quiet room, and once a year they are blessed with five hundred words of unedited stream of consciousness content, before the light is switched off again, snapping the words away.

So this is why I will blog every day this month. Ok? You’re holding me to it, lone reader, in your wee room. Enjoy the light, little friend.

Do we need to catch up? Really not much has changed from the last check-in I did over a year ago. The boyfriend and the job are gone (both of those things on purpose, I don’t mean to imply that one day I woke up and he’d moved to Sydney with my career zipped into his suitcase). I’ve had more haircuts, I purchased contents insurance, I’ve been to a podiatrist. These are things real adults do, and I am 34 so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to me… but sometimes I like the reminder. I am a grown up. I have a podiatrist of choice. And don’t worry, the podiatrist blog is coming. I have a lot to say about her.

Mostly, I’m going to do this Blogfestathon because I want to be able to write about the trip I took to Fiji with Annie in September. Yes, we went back. I finished typing out the notes from my travel journal and it’s 11k words of adventure. But I am so rusty at writing! You know when sometimes you turn a tap on and it makes a gurgling kind of groany noise, and then the water spurts out funny for a bit, and you have to give it a sec to run clear? This is that. We’re running the tap for a bit until it comes out clear. (Yes, I just described what you’re reading as unpotable water… we can work on the ol’ self-marketing this month too, maybe).

Here’s my brain.

By the time I get to telling you all about the weathered man rubbing his nipples at us on a private island in Fiji, I didn’t want to feel weird about typing a story out to put onto the internet. I want writing nipple stories to feel old hat. Like when people get married, they practice that little walk first. And when people perform a show, they rehearse. I need to get some of my Macklemore 10,000 hours under my belt. Then we can sit in the light together, lone reader, and toast with our glasses of drinkable water.


6 thoughts on “Blogathonfest 98”

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