The one where the feminist killjoy starts a blog.

So. Here we are. A blog. How original. How original that I'm being so contrary about trying to be original, telling you I really don't care, but actually, I do. I really, really do. Look at me, look at me!

Truth is, I've been thinking about doing this for awhile, especially given the journey I've been on for the past two and a half years, where it's led me, who it's led me to, and what I've learned (I'm sure we'll get to that later). I've been staring at this post for days, wondering, "A blog? Really? Am I that girl?" Yep. Sure am.

I have a lot of thoughts, a lot of feelings. Sometimes it helps to share them, put them out into the Universe, see what sticks, who catches them, and if it means anything beyond my own existence. What I've found by sharing these thoughts and feelings every now and then is that 1) I feel better, and 2) somebody else is usually on the same wavelength and it makes them feel better, too. And then, beyond that, maybe that makes us feel a little less alone, a little less isolated with all of our own thoughts and feelings about whatever - the world, our existences, our mistakes, our general musings.

To simplify it, unnecessarily: A lot of shit has happened in the last year, and I miss writing about stuff and having people read it. Call me self-indulgent. Call me a millennial. Call me maybe?

I miss writing, and lately, I've been especially keen on writing about hard stuff, tough stuff, and sharing it with the world. Stuff that, in my experience, people are scared to death to talk about, but desperately want to talk about: Sex, drugs, death, power, privilege, hate, love. Shit that touches everybody's lives in some shape or form, on some level, on all levels, that we never fucking talk about. It's stuff that touches my life. It's stuff that I'm usually chin-deep in, every day, all the time. I figure a blog is a way for me to talk about it constantly without annoying the shit out of the people in my life 'cause they can choose to read it or not. Either way, here it is, for the Universe's amusement. Laugh it up, fuckers.

My promise, to myself and to you, whoever you are, is to give realness. I think all these conversations have to start with honesty, and also the admittance that I'm gonna make mistakes, and I'm gonna fuck up, and I'm gonna rely on feelings and instincts over facts and "rational thinking" almost all the time, and that's okay.  Because that's real, and that's who I am. Sometimes it may get gross, or hard, or awful, or uncomfortable, or hilarious, or sentimental, or just plain sappy. I think we all have to ultimately be okay with that. At least I do. You can be okay with whatever you want to be okay about. Like I said, read it or don't (but hopefully do because, again, self-indulgent, hello!).

I can't ignore the timing of this particular project, as its creation is fast on the heels of a new goal and a promise I've made for myself: To finish my current grad program, and then to travel for an indefinite amount of time, to literally exist and be in awe of the world around me, to heal, and then to find public health work in another country. So let this little corner of the Internet also stand as a way to chronicle that journey, to hold myself accountable, and to act as something I can look back on, years from now, and think, "Wow. For all you've learned and seen, nothing has really changed. 'Cause you've always been pretty fucking crazy."

All right, ya'll. Let's get weird.

Here are some ponies in sweaters to show you just how serious I am about this shit.