I've read entries around the blogosphere about bloggers' "real life" friends not understanding why they post on the Internet (aka, porn mecca). And I think some of my friends don't quite "get it" either. We're taught to be skeptical of Cyberspace, and for good and valid reasons. We're taught to keep our hearts and our confessions where they belong: OFF OUR SLEEVES. (Or, if we're being more literal, off any potential Google search results list; it's not exactly comforting when some weirdo nut job individual searches how to make girlfriend turn purple and decides your site must have the answer.) (If you've found your way back, Barney-fetish friend, welcome! Lovely to have you return!)
Oh, yes, back to my point.
My favorite book is Melissa Bank's The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing, and one of my favorite passages from the book is this exchange:
Voice inside Jane's head: He'll think you're a weirdo.
Jane: I am a weirdo.
VIJH: Well, don't go wearing it on your sleeve.
And suffice it to say, at the end of that book, Jane put her weirdness out there. And did I ever love her for it. As that's the only way I know how to be, candid about my crazy. I imagine if you're a regular reader, there's a good chance you've caught yourself—at one time or another—rolling your eyes and/or wishing I'd just, you know, take it down a notch. And I could definitely try to make things easier and more pleasant around here, sure, but it would be exhausting, and I need every last ounce of energy to prepare myself for The Office's season premiere next week. And to continually mourn the end of Veronica Mars. (No. I won't get over it. But thank you for asking.)
So this is what I do. I blog about big chunks of my life, and I love it. It's therapy. It's an outlet. It's a way to remember. It's a way to let go. It's a part of me, and you don't have to get it, but I thank you all the same for trying. And if you do get it, I thank you more than you'll ever know.
(All that above: grand build-up to the following.)
I'm not exactly sure how, but a few months (?) ago I stumbled upon Le Petit Chic and I think I may have sent an "I'm a newlywed! Hi! Wanna be friends?" e-mail, and apparently didn't scare her which says oodles about how awesome she is. She wrote back. We began mutually commenting and e-mailing, while cooking up grand BlogHer '08 plans.
Katie is also newly married and adorable and a gem. Today, when I got home from work, there was a bottle of wine waiting for me. From her.
I have no idea what she's referring to. Tequlia? Me? No. Never. And 175 pictures from my bachelorette party, where I'm taking a tequlia shot OFF A STRANGER, do not exist.
Katie! I too have personalized stationary!
Angella, the quasi-blurry background is all because of you! Thank you for your Foto Fridays!
Katie went to a wine festival this past weekend and bought me—technically a stranger—this bottle of Riesling-esque wine. In the words of my husband, "I wouldn't have believed someone could be so nice if I wasn't holding the proof."
It is such a comfort to know that these daily confessions I insist on making are embraced by total strangers. And that through this lovely little hobby of mine, I've found a friend.
The world is vast and enormous and there's little chance I would ever have met Katie without the Internet, bridging a million gaps every day.
I think Al Gore would be proud.
Thank you, Katie.
(And Happy Birthday!)
::
I'm tempted to save the bottle and bring it with me to BlogHer. But, I'm also tempted to open it this very second and pour it into my stemless wine glasses while watching seasons one and two of The Office in EAGER ANTICIPATION OF NEXT WEEK.
::
We're off tomorrow morning, earlier than Saturdays should be allowed to begin at. We're going to our nephew's first birthday party. We'll be back Sunday, with pictures and more exhaustion than we took with us, I'm sure.
::
Happy weekend, Internet.
::
*You're laughing, right? At the fabulous pun I just pulled off? You promise?