{birth of a blog}

There comes a time in the lives of certain web-savvy {web-obsessed, web-deluded} individuals when starting a blog seems suspiciously like a good idea. This time often coincides with personal realizations concerning one or more of the following:

• supreme arrogance of taste and opinion
• thinly veiled desire to take over the world
• gross excess of intellectual clutter
• natural (if wholly obnoxious) inquisitiveness
• stark lack of love life
• general loneliness
• paralyzing boredom
• shiny optimism (owed entirely to the start of a New Year)

By no means an exhaustive list, but it is probably safe to assume that, on occasion, the idealistic resolution-making of an affable — if largely inquisitive and intellectually cluttered — twenty-three-year-old will spill over into the blogosphere. Consider this post proof-positive.

Of course, in all my arrogant, wishful scheming, I was hoping a blog might spring, brilliant and fully-formed, from the soft tissue of my skull...


...requiring little-to-no compositional effort on my part. I have since learned that human-interweb relations have not yet reached the necessary point of integration (though some accounts of online gaming leave me wondering).

Definitive portrait of the modern individual {beatific bearer of absolute wisdom}, this is not.

But if you're interested in the spontaneous musings of a sometime incisive, skeptically trendy, girl who sleeps with other girls — who appreciates art and life and clever reporting, and doesn't mind treading the hazy line between Lohan/Ronson blasé and complex {convoluted} considerations of social identity (is the former, in fact, a smart and studied critique of the latter, or does it all reek of carelessness and ingratitude for battles fought, lost, won?) — watch this space.

I can't guarantee my posts won't, on occasion, appear juvenile, naïve or poorly formed (at twenty-three, I reserve the right to certain lingering immaturities), but I will offer the following caveat in defense of my integrity:

Should the ratio of semi-intelligent content to incoherent confessions of deeds ill-done grow unattractively small — my parents, being more or less non-religious and thereby sparing me the weight of Catholic guilt, failed to warn me of all the other things a well-meaning global citizen might encounter and feel awful about — this blog is toast.

(Coherent confessions are, of course, another matter entirely.)