Why Georgia Why?

I have started writing 3 different blog entries to lead me to this one.  The first one was this awesome screenplay-esq tale of my top 6 most significant ex boyfriends being chloroformed and put in a room at random left to figure out how they got there and what connected them all. The second version was a blog about being inspired to write that previously mentioned blog.  And the latest version was a novella style interpretation of a story that was told to me by HSF.   The last of which is actually a full blog entry sitting in the drafts folder of this here blog site...

Here's the problem...I have put all too much pressure on who is reading my blog, how they perceive me as a result of my blog, and how I can shape my words and phrases to be someone that is more likable to the masses in my blog.  And for what purpose, really?

I know, for the most part, my audience when I write my words into this online journal. I know the people that hang on every last terrifying story of my awkward social encounters.  And I know the people that read this with hopes of piecing together some lager puzzle of who I am and how I got here.  And I know that my original intention for this blog was just for nothing more than talking about the mundane experiences of my life as they happened.

And then my dad got cancer, my heart got broken, I had to reevaluate all of my relationships (family and otherwise) from this 24 year old single girl perspective.  And it hasn't been easy or pretty to deal with these things on such a public platform.  But I've felt, from the beginning, that this blog has held me accountable to dealing with things as they happen.  And maybe that's the demise. That is where this blog becomes less about pleasure and more about the pressure of dealing with it all in an eloquent way for everyone else.

HSF mentioned tonight that this summer, as fucked up as it was, has been awesome.  And as the cynic in me wants to disagree, maybe he is on to something.  Maybe, despite all the obviously horrific things, I've not only survived, but enjoyed what I was given to work with this year.  I am an insanely different person than who I was when I wrote my first blog entry January 1st, 2011.  And though I will more closely examine that and the specific details of what this year was in an upcoming end-of-year blog, I will now make mention to how much worse it could be.

This particular blog lacks focus, theme, and any sort of character development.  And to be honest, that is the most accurate description of my life I could make these days. I have lots of things to say.  Things not as easily mapped out for me as 3am breakups, or Charlie and Adrian meeting in a dark lite room with dripping pipes and bars over the one small window in the corner (if they are going to be chloroformed, let's at least be realistic about where they end up.)

I wish I had better stories.  I wish I didn't sound like a cheesy column in Cosmopolitan magazine.  I wish I could find the words, not only to achieve a brilliant blog post, but to get me from here to January 1st, 2012.  I wish I could find a more profound way to say that none of this is pretty, or fluffy, or fun.  Nothing that I write about is nearly as quippy and snarky as it comes off as on this blog.  And I am not going to try and make it that way anymore.  Because, quite frankly, I can't take the pressure.