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The Way-Back Machine

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Do you want to know a poorly-kept secret? I have been blogging for nearly seven years. Yes, sometimes sporadically, sometimes multiple times per day, all because I believe the world needs to hear what I have to say. Or, you know, read what I write. Whatever. This post is a part of 20SB’s Looking Back Blog Carnival, and Ben & Jerry’s is awarding free ice cream to lucky bloggers and readers! “Looking Back,” according to the 20Something Bloggers, means that you are to “flip out your blog and pick a post from your first 2 months in blog-land that shows your mentality and outlook from the onset of your blog.” Because I have had four (yes, count them, four) blogs, including this one, through the course of my blogging life, I feel compelled to chart my sometimes-humiliating “growth” as a blogger. And so, in the name of community participation, I give you a look back…don’t say I didn’t warn you. (And hey, seriously, you might need some ice cream or a good, stiff drink when you’re done. Thanks in advance, B&J!)

The olde-timey-est of them all was Someday We’ll Know, started in the fall of my freshman year of college. It began auspiciously, with a one-sentence post:
“If Britney Spears and Fat Bastard were to have a kid, I’d like to think that this child would resemble Anna Nicole Smith.”
It quickly became about much else, but mostly is a pretty good representation of who I was when I was 19 years old. It is mildly terrifying to think that that was nearly seven years ago.

Next came the Xanga, around the time that I realized not having any readers or commentors sort of sucked. Also around the time that I began to date the first Big Love of college (who, spoiler, completely destroyed me about sixteen months later). There was quite a bit of “squee!” as well as a good deal of our friend passive aggression. Witness:
“Ok, so I got to work until 1 today, but it’s not as horrible as it sounds. I would have been up this late anyway, and Patrick came to walk me back, just so I wouldn’t be violated as I trekked back to the dorms along Gayley. Good times, and I got to take some sandwiches back with me (yay for free food!)…oh, and I think I got titled tonight. It was kind of something that was understood, I think, but it’s always nice to have clarification. And now, to climb up onto Cloud 9 (hehe, Erika…) and go to blissful, blissful sleep…”
and…
Did you ever feel like, when certain people pop online and don’t IM you, and you don’t want to IM them because you’re not sure if you’ll get verbally decapitated, it feels like a staring contest? Think about it… Oh, and of course I have an individual (or two) in mind, but I’m much too passive-aggressive to name names.”

Somewhere in the middle of the Xanga run began Tragic Maturity, a blog name that came out of an inside joke, and that I sort of regret not currently having (or at least posting on…it still exists, so whatever). Maybe I’ll go back. Who knows. TM started around the beginning of Big(-ish) Love #2 of college, the fall of my junior year. This was the second year I was living in my sorority house, so here is a fun glimpse of how I felt about Greek life and technology (aw, remember when Facebook was just for .edu people?). Oh, and fyi– it’s pronounced PREEE-sents, and not like the ones under the Christmas tree.

Presents and other debauchery

Last night was Presents, which is generally kind of debutante-sounding, even though the cutesy little part at the house during the day is followed by the most insane date party of the year. It’s like this every year– all the girls put on their black or white dresses (yeah, we’re cult-y, but every house does it…so I guess that makes it ok) and pack onto too few school buses, get to the venue, and proceed to dry-hump their dates. Of course this year was no exception– there were only two buses, so we had to triple up (or, in the case of my seat, quadruple. Not, fun, especially given that my and Mike’s seatmates were making out and groping each other already.) The place was really cute, and a good deal of quasi-espionage had to be done to ensure that we got back into the Coolest Couch/Chair Thing Ever (ha, like putting your jacket on a seat will keep other, possibly intoxicated people from sitting there? Idiot.) Two Red Bull and vodkas and a gin and tonic later, I was just about ready to be home (not even necessarily mine, just someone’s so that I didn’t have to watch other people make out)…the “early” bus left a little after midnight, and I was on it.

Woke up before my “alarm” at 11 (ha, I got more than three hours of sleep last night!) and had semi-breakfast made for me (yes, I’m counting a bagel as breakfast. He made me an omelette the other day, so there.) Watched some thing about killer whales and seals and penguins on the National Geographic channel, felt old. I feel a little guilty about making him go out last night when he has a midterm today, but am really glad that we got to go– I’ll make it up somehow, I promise.

Technology is so fucked up. Last night I heard one of the girls talking with her date about how she’s going to change her “relationship status” on her FaceBook profile to “in a relationship with ___” now because they’re official– as if the FaceBook profile is the thing that makes their relationship valid or legitimate. Even things like blogs (hello, Xanga, I believe you’ve become a little passive-aggressive, yet I’ll still continue to update because I’m so OCD) have become this whole other dimension of relationships, making shit that was already confusing even more so. No one can be completely honest in a blog about a relationship, especially when the interest might be reading. How do you get around the “Ohh, I like him so much!” when that’s a big part of what’s going on at the moment? Ok, off to the land of truth– the paper journal, which no one is allowed to read, although several have made attempts. Argh.”

Which brings us to the Tea and Cake Time. Ready to create (or reflect, rather) my new post-college persona, I started semi-lamely, with a meme. Things quickly picked up, as I revealed myself to be quite the reflection of Stuff White People Like, encompassing at least NPR and Being Offended:

Why I listen to NPR

Not just because I’m a bleeding-heart, West Coast-living, registered Democrat with a crush on Ira Glass…but also because on local radio, especially in the morning, one’s ears are treated to scintillating segments (sorry for the alliteration, it flares up when I’m annoyed) such as, “Is It Gay?” Debate is then held over whether things like having personalized checks or being a male cheerleader is gay. Not that these people are social scientists, but I’m going to have to point out here that correlation is not causation. Thank god for Morning Edition!”
____________________________________________________________________

A jaunt into Memory Town is always fun, so get on board, friends! Embarrass yourself in the way that only Past You can– all, ultimately, in the name of ice cream!

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About Megan

I read, I write, I drink wine while watching way too much tv. Let's be friends.

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