You know what’s scary? Writing. It’s scary to think of putting yourself out there in print and no one reading or caring. It’s even scarier to think of putting yourself out there in print and someone reading or caring.
There’s something so terrifying about recording your thoughts and feelings, your hopes and your fears, your dreams and your nightmares in the written word. What is that? It’s as if once it’s out there, it’s out there forever. Permanently branded on the memory of the universe. I don’t know why I feel that way. It’s not as though I can’t erase my writing with a couple clicks of a mouse. . . .
Blogs are weird, guys. They’re just straight-up weird. There’s a built-in arrogance that comes with a blog. (Seriously—just take a look at how many times I’ve said “I.” I couldn’t even get through that sentence without it). It’s as if I’m waving my arms and yelling, “Here I am! I have something to say and I want you to hear it! I feel important enough to have created this space on the Internet just for my own thoughts!”
Because here’s the thing: What if I don’t have anything to say, in particular? If I’m not—and don’t think I want to be—a “blogger.” If I’m not the new Julia Child or the next Martha Stewart. If I’m not married and I’m not a supermom. If I’m not a fashionista and I’m not a photographer and I have no clue how to do my hair. If I don’t spend my weekends redoing my house because—oh, right—I don’t have one.
When I started this blog three years, two moves, and one heartbreak ago, I said that I wanted this place to be an endeavor of the heart and of the mind. I wanted it to be literary; I wanted it to be professional; I wanted it to be “cotton tee meets pearls.” I wanted it to have a clear purpose. And I wasn’t sure how personal I ever wanted to get. The main purpose of Pearls was to have it on my resume as evidence of my writing.
But where’s the fun in that?
So here is a brief (re)introduction:
- My name is Auburn.
- As of this moment, I’m 26 years old, which is older than I ever imagined myself being. (Really. I don’t even know what to do with myself.)
- I live in Austin, Texas.
- I’m still an editor, though now it’s mainly online articles and such rather than books. And can I just say that I feel a ton of pressure to be extra good at writing since my chosen profession is so closely related? Glad you let me get that out there.
- I’m in a long-distance relationship with a wonderful, compassionate, fiery redhead of a man named Neil. And when I say long-distance, I mean long.distance. Neil will be teaching English in Daegu, South Korea, from March 1, 2014 to about March 15, 2015. Thankfully, he’s the best person in the world with whom to navigate a 7,000-mile separation and a 14-hour time difference. In a mere 44 days, I’ll join him for 3 months of love, laughter, and getting lost together in a new world—but who’s counting? I definitely don’t have an app counting down the days, hours, minutes, and seconds until September 6 at 3:25 p.m. or anything like that.
- I have been blessed with an amazing family and a fantastic group of friends—and I actually mean that! My parents have been married for almost 47 years—to each other! Talk about inspiring. I have an older sister who is one of the most talented and creative people in my life. And all my friends are truly the smartest and most beautiful people in the entire world. No one could convince me differently.
- There is a very real possibility that I love chapstick and free things more than anyone else you know.
Well, I think that does it for key, first-date points. I still have no idea what I’ll write on here, but I know that, whatever it is, it’ll be life. And that’s worth writing about.