here we go again

What am I doing-

When I was in 10th grade, I had a blog on Xanga that I wrote in constantly. Real embarrassing stuff, like how much I wanted a boy at work to notice me (I was 16, he was 23-yikes, Caitlin!). I kept this up (not the crush, the blog) until the end of high school, when I immediately deleted it. I’m both relieved and upset that I deleted it. Would I want to go back and relive those days?

I think that was the longest I ever maintained a blog. Or a journal. I have a tendency, like a lot of people, to hoard journals that I never write in. The most I do is track my diet updates, and once I abandon it, I rip out the pages and shred em. Wash, rinse, repeat. No need to be reminded that my ‘starting weight’ is higher and higher with every attempt. Believe me, I know.

I loved writing when I was young. I was always writing stories and keeping track of what I was doing with my days (nothing), and as I got older, my love of writing persisted, but I just stopped. I don’t know why, and I can’t pinpoint when. Maybe after I graduated from high school, when I took a gap year and worked three jobs at one time just to forget the fact that I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. My best friend had moved to NZ for 6 months, and most of my other friends had gone on to post secondary. Working 12-14 hours ensured I didn’t have time for a social life, which was fine with me.

From 2008-2012, when I was in university, I stopped reading and writing altogether. If it wasn’t for school, I wasn’t doing it. To this day, I still have a hard time convincing myself to read a book ‘for pleasure’.

These days, I work in an office in which I spend 8 hours a day writing emails and answering phone calls, and I think, sometimes, that my life has become a Dilbert comic strip. I also get a lot of joy out of those work e-cards that everyone shares on Facebook. This makes my life seem sad. I assure you, it is.

I think the goal of whine0forever  is to find joy in writing again. I don’t even necessarily need others to read it, I just want to write for myself. I went to Europe with my BFF 3 years ago and managed to write about the first 3 days on my Tumblr before abandoning that. I thought I’d never forget a moment of that month, but I did. I didn’t forget the big things, like wandering around the Roman Forum, or crying on a river cruise on the Seine. But I forgot the little things, like what I ate my first night in Florence, and the songs we danced to at a disco until 2 in the morning.

Will this help? Will I even write? Who knows. But I gotta fill my time somehow, because, in the words of Peter Gibbons:
“Yeah, I just stare at my desk; but it looks like I’m working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I’d say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work.”

Can’t wait!

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