Back to the Good Life

Anyone who has ever published any kind of creative endeavor on the Internet knows the medium is a blessing and a curse. At its best, it gives you the freedom and the ability to express yourself however your heart desires. At its worst it can make you feel a bit silly about said expressions over time. It can be kind of liberating to know that so much about yourself is floating around out there for anyone with a web browser to find, but kind of annoying to know that it’s just as easy to find the bad stuff. In the long run, I’ve found, publishing yourself online is one of the best ways to see how far you’ve come. Yearbook and Flickr photos only convey so much. Or at least that’s how I feel about it today looking back on a self-indulgent Knotmag story I wrote three years ago.

At the time we were publishing a series of essays called “Sweet Talkin’” in an attempt to recapture the lost art of writing love letters and observing matters of the heart. Before long Jennie asked me if I’d mind writing a letter to my health, a break-up letter, if you will. I balked at first, afraid of looking whiney and grumpy and self-obsessed. Although it was published with very few edits to the content, I always felt that it was trite -- that it made me look like I was more content with my health situation than I actually was. I thoroughly believed, and still believe, the things I wrote. I just had no idea how to put them into action.

I still have my quibbles with the writing – what’s with all the Weezer references and why the extended metaphors to writing as if I was a jilted lover? But much to my astonishment I’m re-reading it and actually feeling as determined as I sounded. I finally have the job I wanted and in a couple months I will probably have that studio apartment I wanted too. Unfortunately, my sister gets to put up with me until I do. And with any luck, moving to Chicago will provide me with better blogging material. However, if you ever see me at a Starbucks or Borders, pretentiously typing away with a wireless connection, please feel free to throw your latte at me. I’m sure I’ll have it coming.