Happy Friday from Wednesday

So, hey, it's been a while.

Let me just get that out there. After my several empty attempts at creating a writing schedule so I could stay consistent I, well, pretty much fell off the face of the earth.

Some of you may have been wondering if I reactivated my OK Cupid account and somehow fell victim to the pixelated charms of Sasquatch (you know, it's the classic Beauty and the Beast love story), leading to my doomed fate of dying alone in the forest at night with only the dim glow of Sasquatch's Nokia flip phone from 2003 illuminating my tragic surroundings as he takes a selfie, then filters it through Instagram with the hashtag #lovekills.

Thankfully, that didn't happen.

What has happened is I have a new job as a marketing coordinator (side note: when I first got this job, that's basically how I wanted to introduce myself until someone punched me in the face. Like, "Hi, my name is Amanda and I'm a marketing coordinator. Yes, I'll have a tall iced coffee, please.") and a new boyfriend who does not live in the forest or take unrecognizable selfies with an antiquated mobile device.

Shit's kind of together at the moment, which is weird for me. And this is why I feel like I haven't had much fuel for writing. As you know, most of my anecdotes are based on embarrassing social tragedies or how depressed I am at work. Not that the social tragedy thing doesn't happen any more (believe me, on the daily) but I'm sort of content.

And it's sad that I can't write when I'm happy. Yet another reason I believe I am truly like Wednesday Addams. I mean, right now I'm happy in life, but sad that I can't write when I'm happy. So technically, what's making me write even now is sadness.

What's wrong with me?

The point is, I was shopping on ModCloth. I know, you totally saw that sentence coming because it makes so much sense in the context of this post.

But seriously, that's what happened. I was shopping on ModCloth and I saw this book titled, "Do Something Every Day That Scares You." Of course at first I thought, pfft, ridiculous. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I am terrified of pretty much everything, so to do this wouldn't necessarily require me jumping out of airplanes or sword swallowing. I could, I don't know, go to a sit-down restaurant alone. Enroll in a class at the museum. Wear harem pants.

And then I realized I hadn't blogged in quite sometime. It was in this moment that a little wisp of sadness made its way from my heart and to my keyboard. I could write about doing something that scares me every day. (Okay, maybe not every day, but you get the point.)

So, that's where I'm at. I'm going to wear harem pants. And be really scared and sad. And then write about it.

Friday Night Writes & Other Things At 3 AM

So, it's 3 AM and yes, I realize I just started this blog post by unintentionally quoting a Matchbox Twenty song.

I've had issues sleeping pretty much all week, which is a terrible affliction to be plagued with when your job requires you to be awake for eight consecutive hours. Last night, for example, I had a nightmare that all my close friends finally got their dream occupations and I was still the one wandering around blindly, nurturing my sanity by doodling nonsensical things at my desk and filtering photos of my coffee through Instagram. Even mid-nightmare, I was in emotional duress because I wanted to be happy for my friends but at the same time, I wanted them to be unhappy with me.

It was horrifying. (And man was I glad when I woke up to realize we were all still miserable.)

It doesn't help that I've already failed to blog at least twice a month. I really wanted to use this platform as some sort of representation of what I'm capable of to potential employers, but, I mean, stream-of-conscious writing at 3 AM isn't too impressive.

So, I'm thinking about creating a writing schedule (this also has the potential to serve as a convenient excuse for getting out of social interactions I have no interest being a part of--sorry, it's "Friday Night Writes!" Gotta go home and write stuff by myself without you there!) Right now may be the prime time to do this because I seem to be creating more structure in my life. Like, I have that My Fitness Pal app and a workout schedule AND I purposely went up and down the stairs at work 10 times on my break (and it was only on the 10th time down that I encountered someone in the stairwell and really wanted to explain that I wasn't severely out of breath from only walking down two flights of stairs, but rather my inability to breathe and sweaty appearance was because I had been working out hard core on levels they wouldn't understand.)

We'll see. I have a planner and a calendar and a pen to write stuff on the pages. But, I also have a Pinterest account and apparently, insomnia. And on that note, here's a photo I found that made me laugh way too hard.

P.S. It's now 4 AM. Cool.

It's 2014 and I Need a Little Help from my Friends

Love this drawing. "Smart Girl" by Samantha Hahn

Each new year, I shoo away the idea of resolutions like I would the persistent nagging of a housefly that won’t stop buzzing in my ear. While there’s a part of me secretly feeling that same sense of renewal experienced by the masses when confetti pops at 12, there’s a larger, less whimsical part of me that thinks, “Well, every day is technically a new year--it’s exactly a year from this date last year” and suddenly the glitter of the confetti dulls and I’m back to shrugging my shoulders, drinking champagne because it’s Wednesday.

Which admittedly, is weird. I am a very whimsical girl who enjoys holidays and planning and list-making--but for some reason, New Year’s has never been something I looked at with a celebratory eye.

This year, however, I actually felt like maybe I could have a real, true, meaningful resolution. No, it’s not to renew my OK Cupid profile and be courted by that one guy who has the Nokia flip-phone and likely unreliable internet access in the murderous woods he resides--it was to blog at least twice a month. Or specifically, to create a blogging schedule.

The thing that you readers may or may not have noticed about my writing style is that, well, I have little-to-no direction. I write when I feel like it about what I feel like.

For example: this post came dangerously close to being a dramatic narrative of how I sprained my ankle this weekend on an acorn.

I have lots of interests, though. I obsess over record collecting, piecing together outfits and decorating my tiny apartment with thrift store finds. I’d like to avoid being pigeon-holed into a theme, but part of me wonders if I’d be more diligent with my writing if I had a clear direction each time I sat down.

I know a lot of you do enjoy my little amusing stories about the misfortunes I come across during day-to-day living, breathing, walking, dating--but what else would you like to see from me? Decorating? Style? Cooking? Knife Throwing?

What’s the other blog post going to be about each month?