a place called home

Writing your first blog entry is a lot like being on a first date. You only get to make a first impression once. I find myself nervous and over-thinking every word that comes out of my mouth- or in this case, from my fingers. What do I talk about? Do I try and be funny and down to earth or do I play it cool and mysterious? How much information is too much information? Do I mention my fondness for dark chocolate and penguins or my growing collection of buttons, affectionately known as flair? I don’t know. I just want to get this awkward moment over with. (That’s a lie. I actually get quite a thrill from awkward moments.) Moving on.

I majored in journalism approximately 307 years ago. I haven’t done much with my degree since I walked off campus, diploma in hand; never quite found my niche, so to speak. I interned at various magazines my senior year and became disillusioned with the whole writing thing. The artistic and cathartic elements seemed to be removed when you added a paycheck. It became a business of over-thinking and, quite honestly, giving too much weight to others' opinions of the words one chose to string together. 

Once upon a time I wrote for the love of it, and that’s why I’m writing now. It’s like William Faulkner once said, it’s not about being a writer, it’s about writing. Somewhere along the line, I forgot that.

That being said, dark chocolate & rain boots is born with no expectations except one- to be a home to the words that I choose to write. And like they always say, there's no place like home.