I wish I could say this is the first blog I’ve started, that I haven’t left a trail of deflated, half used blogs along the way. The truth is I usually write when I’m going through something in my life. It’s a form of therapy, a way to reflect on my thoughts and feelings in a safe, almost disconnected way. I write my way through them and then as I come out the other side and the pieces of my life begin crawling back together, the writing gets pushed further and further to the side. But recently I thought ‘hey, what if I just wrote because I want to write and not because my world feels like it’s crashing down around me?’ I mean sure, I still have difficult times, I’ve recently moved to a new city and I’m still working on figuring out how adults make friends, my job isn’t great, I’m single and usually not in the fun, Sex in the City way but in the angry-glare-at couples-exhibiting-PDA way, I struggle with a personality that can be very blunt and abrasive  (an asset sometimes, and not so much other times).

…admittedly that all makes my life sound depressing af…

BUT despite the aforementioned, I’m happy most days, or at least most of the time most days. I live in an awesome city (San Francisco), the friends I have made are really intelligent and adventurous people, I’ve been trying a lot of new things since I moved, I’ve had my share of encounters with the male species – which at best allowed me to meet some interesting men and at worst left me with stories, life lessons and an understanding of what I don’t want in a relationship (equally as important as figuring out what you do want in my opinion) – my job itself is no longer fulfilling to me but it’s allowed me to meet some cool people and travel a bit.

So why not write about the daily ups and downs? The small wins and losses in life, rather than the traumatic life events that leave me exhausted and scarred. I’m hoping to use this as a platform to examine my day-to-day choices and experiences. A place to explore the things I do and don’t like about myself. A figurative daisy which allows me to participate in the common, youthful game we all played: he loves me, he loves me not, but instead of examining the potential affections of a childhood crush, understanding how I feel about me, and with more control over the outcome.