NaBloPoMo Day Fifteen: Frequency

I think that I've observed, over the many (eleven) months of blogging I've done, that blogging for me is like an exercise in essay-writing. Granted, my archives are probably just as laden with unimportant babble as the blog of anyone my age, or just a little bit older. But as time goes on and I spend more and more time listening to myself, I think I'm discovering just how essay-like my life is. Let it be known: Funny and ironic things do happen in my life. I just... forget them. Sometimes I remember to jot them down, but that's hardly enough to qualify.

For instance, Tuesday night at poetry, I was standing with my barista friend and Ginger's-brother-happens-to-be-a-great-guy Dolan at the counter. We were waiting for me to call it third round. Well, Dolan mentioned something about doing acid. In jest! My barista friend and I shook Dolan violently, chanting, "Dolan don't do acid! Dolan don't do acid!"

Then, two teenagers who were new to the poetry night meandered up to the counter. And thought that we were selling acid. My second mix-up with the dangerous, deadly, world of drugs. This is something ironic, but it doesn't exactly transfer to the page as pretty as I'd like. I'd rather I could just post up funny quotes, like:

"I picked my nose too hard!"

Which did, actually, happen. I started crying real, fat tears out of one eye. And it was all because of a stupid booger.

I like to read other ladies' blogs the same way I listen to good music. Observation, imitation, and enjoyment. There are blogs I read because I love them. There are also blogs I read just to learn more about writing (ahem, easthollywoodenglish) because I am a terrible, terrible dork. But I do hope one day to have a blog that comes with its own hate-mail and humble following of loyal readers.

I also hope to one day own a car.