So I've been away for awhile, percolating and having experiences as we all do.  Strangely enough my experiences in my college classes have made me want to get back to writing and in particular blogging.  As with everything I want to apply an overarching theme or framework to what I'm doing, since chaos, even controlled chaos, makes me come out in hives.  However, the longer I think about it the more I realize I need to have spaces that are free from judgement and criticism, whether that be of others or myself. 
I've been throwing around the idea of a blog in my head for quite some time now, despite the fact that "blog" is undoubtedly my least favorite word in the English language.  I've also received encouragement from friends and my husband that I should start a blog because I love writing and yes I was one of those teenagers who religiously updated their Xanga.  But I always told myself if I was going to have a blog it would need to be "about" something-like a blog about cooking, or music, or photography or even like a few of my friends have, a blog about fashion.  The more I think about it however I like all of those things, and why can't I put all of that into a blog? 
I also feel that my initial reluctance may have been because I was scared.  I have a problem with constant self-criticism, and I don't like to do things unless it's perfect.  So if I did start a blog and heaven forbid it never got made into a best-selling book than I would feel like such a failure.  But I think my new resolution is going to be to do things without a fear of failure, or at least a fear of mediocrity.  Let's see how long this lasts.

Married With Puppy

So I got married pretty young.  Which shocked virtually everyone who knows me, including myself somtimes.  I was always the perpetually single, perpetually uninterested in relationships person, who when the few relationships I did have ended wasn't exactly heartbroken.  So it came as a big shock when I announced my engagement, and shortly thereafter got married in an $11 dress at the courthouse.  So how did I know? I'm still not totally sure, but a big epiphany moment came for me 6 months into my husband and my relationship. 
I've never been the type to cry at  movies, I've seen 'em all, Harry and the Hendersons, Lion King, Bambi, Apollo 13, all of 'em, never shed a tear.  I was so noted for this in my family that I think my parents secretly thought I was a sociopath.  However, 6 months into the relationship I watched a little movie called P.S. I Love You, which is a gripping yarn about a young married couple, and the husband dies early of a brain tumor or hemorrhage, or something else vague and nonspecific.  The movie is about how they met, how he died and how she eventually learned to deal with it.  It's a really good movie, but you couldn't tell from watching it with me because I cried for about 80% of it.  Not cute, tears silently sliding down my face crying, but ugly wracking sobs that turned  my nose and eyes red. Even before the husband died I was crying, and then I cried at all the funny parts too.  Probably the 20% I wasn't crying was during the credits.  I was so emotional because I was thinking about myself (naturally) and how I would feel if my husband died.  I was surprised by the strength and depth of my emotion.  I've always had a pretty good imagination, which is unfortuante in some cases, and a blessing in others.  This case more the the former. 
My husband is in the  military so it wasn't so far fetched for me to worry about his safety, although I'm sure all wives worry.  This also explains why I had a similar crying experience when I made the mistake of watching the movies Brothers and The Messenger when my husband was deployed.  Those aren't even particularly sad movies, in Brothers the husband turns out to not have been dead, and in The Messenger he turns out to have been something of a douche.  So again my complete sobbing breakdown was maybe not the most rational reaction. Even so small a thing made me realize how much I cared about my husband, and I'm learning in life that it's the small things that count the most.

What to say...

So I have to admit there is some freedom in knowing that no one I know is reading this, possibly no one at all is reading this.  That's a rare commodity these days when you don't have to vet what you're putting out through the filter of "what will my husband think?" or "how can I post this without my mother in law reading it?" or "how will my super conservative friends react if I post a picture of my new tattoo?".  So now that I have a non-captive audience the question is what do I really want to say, but feel like I can't?
Honestly I would like to say that being married is harder than I make it out to be, that I love my dog so much it hurts sometimes, I feel female friendships are just big long competitions,and that I'm not sure if I care that I forgot my Mother's birthday.  I also have anxiety so badly that it makes even easy things difficult, that I often feel more at home reading a book than in most normal social situations, I  miss my friends more than I miss my parents and that I don't like Taylor Swift.  I can't help it, I've tried to but I can't. 
That felt strangely good, although I must admit there is the creeping anxiety even now that someone will find this, and I'll have to start censoring myself again, pretending I enjoy talking about current events and that I think Sarah Palin is a good person. I'm determined to enjoy myself until that moment comes along however.