I'm not new to blogging. Long, long ago, in the halcyon days of the early 2000s, I had a Livejournal. I know, right? Livejournal. And it was filled with all sorts of melodrama, drunken postings in the wee hours of the morning, depressed ramblings, more passive aggression than anyone should admit to. I was in college. That's how college kids roll.
A few weeks ago I deleted the LJ. I hadn't posted in it for over a year, and I never went back and reread my old posts. There are just some things that need to be left behind. I think that if I had read them, I wouldn't have recognized them as my own, or, at the very least, I would have been embarrassed to admit that they were mine. Not that I'm that different of a person, just a little older and more pulled together. Aged, as it were, in the charred oak barrel of independence and maturity and increased self-awareness.
So now I'm ready to start writing again. Well, not right now. That over-extended metaphor has got me thinking about the bottle of Jack Daniels in the kitchen. And after I drink, I will not be coming back here for quite some time. See? Totally different than the old blog.
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