Blogging about Blogging

Way back before the time this blog existed, I was openly opposed to blogging. In fact, I was opposed to Facebook, myspace, Harry Potter, lacy tank tops, The Office, and any other thing I felt fell under the confined of that elitist little crowd known as "popular." In other words, I was a non-conformist.

Then I gave in.

I gave in to Facebook because necessity demanded it of me--I needed to Facebook stalk a guy I was interested in. I wore the stylish shirt because my aunt got me one for by birthday (when I realized my opposition derived from my lack of ability to participate (I didn't have one), not because of my actual opinion opposing the style). And my mom convinced me a blog would be a great outlet for developing thoughts, feelings, and writing.

I must say that the content of my blog has developed over the years. I used to believe no one read my blog; that permitted me to be wholly honest, and freely vulnerable about what I discussed.

My writing came in waves--sometimes the tide was high, and sometimes very low.

And I grew up some.

This past year I have had a very interesting relationship with my blog, and more than ever, the blogs down that sidebar on the right. I used to follow their lives and read the intricate details of their worlds more than I would post my own.

At one point last year, I decided I needed to change my entire image based on the lives of some of these girls.

I must admit, I am still swayed by their lives, but I am more of me than I used to be. And I wish that I could be even stronger in that than I am now.

I've just been thinking a lot about this recently in light of a Mormon Message video I saw the other day.

For those of you who are not familiar with these videos, they are short clips produced by my church.

Well, for those of you who are not familiar with the blogging world, this woman, Stephanie, has quite the reputation. Right along with many other blogs like rockstar diaries, dooce, and others I'm sure I don't know of, people follow nienie dialogues like their Bible. Even if they don't like the author, bloggers develop this insatiable need to know what's going on in the lives of other bloggers. They will form relationships, true friendships with others they have never met, but know more personal insights into their lives than even the neighbors of these writers might know.

I developed this same need to know.

I needed to know and be like bloggers I read about daily.

Imagine my surprise when I ended up in a college class with a girl whom I had never met but had been following the blog of for some time. I happened upon her blog through the blog of another blog which I found through another blog which I found through another blog which is written by a friend I actually knew. Weird, huh?

Then I started feeling self-conscious about the number of followers I had. It's kind of like when you first get Facebook and you don't have as many "friends" as others. All of a sudden that small number actually dictates the way you think and feel about yourself. OK, maybe you didn't have these feelings, but I did ever so briefly. I needed followers; I needed people to care about what I thought and said.

Really, though, I'm glad I let go of that quickly. I found the more people I discovered actually read my blog, the more contrived my entrees became. I want to write for me again. Don't get me wrong, this is a public site and I plan on leaving it that way, but I'm not writing FOR you anymore. Selfish? Maybe. But this is the way it needs to be if I'm going to be me.

I've had a lot of self-evaluation moments out here in this whole new world. I'm not a completely new person by any means, but I'm working on peeling off some unnecessary shells I've built around the real "me."

Do you ever feel as though society completely dictates your thoughts and actions.

It's scariest when I feel my own self-perception is based on looking through the eyes of others.

This is just one part of my long inner discussion with myself about how I "fit in" here, and where I'm going next in life, and how I let others make that decision for me.

If I have time, maybe I'll venture into the other half of this discussion about my experiences of "fitting in" in New York. But for now, I've decided not to worry about dressing like those girls on that blog, or finding a husband like her, or thinking about all the things that those people do.

I'm just going to be me for awhile, if that's OK.

The Train Station

"Okay, Ladies and Gentlemen, if you do not let the doors close, the train will not leave the station!" she said in a very shrill yell for the 500th time. The doors would open and then close, open and then close, each time trying to reach the seal that would allow the train to move.


The doors of the over-crowded car would part as though it were gasping for air. Yet, each attempted breath only inhaled more water. The doors moved, only for a second, and three more people jumped on.

Attempted close #5--fail.

Again, it opened.

Only a two inch gap between the glass panels this time as it shut, and Time Magazine flew in to stop the doors. They opened again and a boot flew in. The woman who owned the boot tried to pry her way through, but only moments later she was trying to pry her way out--her boot was stuck, and so was the foot holding her body to the train--this time the doors did not open.


Another tug and the boot came out--we were off.

The man squished next to me coughed.

* * *

National Geographic was great. Started with some grunt work, of course, but I'm hoping to climb my way up soon enough. Today I began with an episode of the show I'll be working on ("Border Wars"), then logged supers and captions, and worked on web copy. So, just a start.

* * *

"Excuse me, is this 125th? Oh, I'm getting off here." Next stop? THE TOP!

Hellloooo, New York!

I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I'M IN NEW YORK! I didn't think I'd ever make it here, but I am, in fact, sitting in the basement of my housing complex on the edge of Harlom in NYC! My friend, Rob, picked me up from the airport last night, and then gave me a walking tour of the city today. Here are my thoughts:

As I exited the airport doors, I felt the heavy air consume my body. It had been raining for several hours by this point, and the air was thick with moisture. The cars were nothing but stop and go--no room for weak brakes. One large truck literally looked both ways (if that) and then simply drove through a red light. Another car saw the red light and stopped under the light, in the middle of the intersection, until it turned green again.

I love the man who welcomed me to the house--dreadlocks and all! "What the pen isn't working? Well, this is a non-profit organization. What do you expect?"

The subways smell like urine and the city a cacophony of fragrances ranging from fried onions to cheep perfume to more urine.

We visited the Manhattan temple, and the security guard at the front door was helping herself to a large cup of coffee. It was rather humorous.

I live in a dorm apartment on the same floor with a Russian opera singer and Tommy.

More than anything, I am SO EXCITED to start my internship with National Geographic tomorrow!

I'll try and keep the updates more regular now. Maybe I'll even get around to recapping on what's happened in the past month.