A note for you, dear reader.
I do not know who you are.
You could be an old friend from high school who stumbled across this space through Facebook. You could be a random blog surfer who found this page by accident. You could be one of my best friends. You could also be Hilary Clinton or Steve Martin or my mother or second cousin.
I don’t know, really. But I do know you’re there.
And whoever you are, I thank you.
Popular blogs, whether they be food or wedding or fitness oriented, probably average in the hundred of thousands of daily readers. In this process, the author becomes more like a friend to the reader. Readers keep coming back to their site day after day, maybe even several times a day to “check in” and see what the blogger has been up to since their 6 a.m. yoga and oatmeal breakfast (to use healthy-living bloggers as an example, not to poke fun.)
This happens because a connection was forged somewhere along the way between the writer and the reader.
With all of that said I want this blog to have a twofold purpose.
1) I want to connect. We require bonds and connection with other humans in order to feel loved and that we’re not all in this crazy thing called “life” alone.
2) I want to share my stories – the parts and pieces of my life that are sometimes silly and other times serious and shameless and perhaps, heart-shattering. For by doing so, this fulfills and gratifies me both creatively and emotionally.
I do not need 10,000 readers to accomplish my purpose. The thought of someone possibly stumbling across my blog while waiting for the subway on their commute to work or while standing in line at the grocery store is incredible to me. And that they might take the time to read what I have to write humbles me.
I always hope that maybe I connected with that one person. It doesn’t matter to me if they forget about my blog and never return or make fun of me and my big nose and my irrational love of Forrest Gump and funfetti cupcakes. If I can connect, I have succeeded. That is why I am a writer. That is why I’ll always be a writer. Maybe not famous or notable but at least, loyal to the craft of connection. Something that can’t be measured by numbers.
“The mysteries of the world can tug on the tender parts of a young girl’s heart in unique an dangerous ways. Wide-open expanses, the edge of civilization, the push of humanity, concrete and metal, flesh and blood. She sought to understand meaning in sustenance and self through it all. And the story of her life was altered forever because she took the risk of allowing it to be.” – penned somewhere within the embrace of the warm winds of the west coast in the summer of 2010.