The first time

2003-08-06, 1:39 p.m.
I’m sitting here trying to type an entry into my brand new journal and I’m paralyzed. I was on a roll with my writing this morning – I pulled together a 1200-word article in a matter of hours – but now I can’t think of a single thing to say.

I’m not sure who’s going to be reading this (or if I’m an egomaniac for thinking anyone will read it), but I feel a lot of pressure for my journal to be witty, smart, thought-provoking, and of course, grammatically correct: all of that pressure makes it hard to write.

A friend (a fellow writer who keeps an online journal) suggested I use my first entry to give everyone an idea of who’s journal they’re reading – the whole “who I am” route.

So, who am I?

Well, as of today, I’m one year older – yep, it’s my birthday. I am 28. It’s a bit scary, really (yeah, yeah, I know it’s not old), but it is one year closer to 30 – the magic age when I thought I would have accomplished this giant list of life goals. If I want things to go according to plan, in the next two years I will have to travel the world, finish a master’s degree, write a book and have my work published in one of the ‘seven sisters’ magazines. That means I should be writing a chapter of my novel, booking a flight to Tibet or studying for the GMATs instead of writing in an on-line journal.

But that’s what I do – I write – or at least I try. Sometimes I spend too much time thinking about writing or imagining my byline in a nationally recognized glossy, but most of the time I do manage to eke out a few sentences.

What else? I’m notorious for speaking my mind (some people have dared to call me obnoxious; I prefer being thought of as straight forward); I wear sweatpants almost every day (the perks of working from home), I sing loudly and off key and I can’t cook. Fortunately for me, I’m married to a wonderful boy who makes delicious calzones – he also tells me all of his secrets and is the best two-step partner I’ve had. And I’m Canadian (no, I don’t say ‘a-boot’) but I do spell things differently, so if you read ‘colour,’ ‘neighbour,’ and ‘cheque,’ cut me some slack.

Want to know more about me? You’ll have to check back for new entries.






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