In one week, I will be 30. Aside from a tummy tuck, there's nothing that anyone could get me for my birthday.
See that paragraph above? That was the beginning of my first entry here. The original first entry was going to be about my neighbor, his refurbished barbecue, and how I got my groove back. Trust me, I was going somewhere with that. In crafting it, I'd made up some details that didn't really happen, and I came off condescending in an attempt to be clever. That whole Carrie-Bradshaw-having-a-drink-while-looking-out-a-window-and-wondering-what-might-have-been-while-typing-on-a-Macbook might have been something for me to aspire to once, but then I got a job, a man, and a house.
Besides, I don't have any vodka, and I'm typing this on a Mac Mini.
Yes, I will be 30 in one week and this blog is my gift to myself. This blog has no underlying message, no point, and is merely an outlet for my creativity. I'm not here to prove anything to anyone, unlike my last attempt. This blog is not a love letter, as was the journal before that. And it was definitely not the teenage drivel that preceded that.
No pretentiousness, no drama, and no usage of that word in that context.