Why I Write About Shoes and Shows

A few years ago, while still at home-home, I wanted to quit my job and go to California or New York and get my Masters of Fine Arts in English. I thought that was the best way that I could go about writing a book. (I didn't realize that getting accepted to the top English schools in the country required previously-published material... or a Bachelor's in English... or really good grades...)

A book on what? You ask... Well, I wasn't sure. I just knew that I really wanted to write. I love it- I love the freedom it gives me that I can't get any other way.

Some people go to the gym, other people do sports or read a book. I do all of those activities, but I never get the high that they do. I don't feel "refreshed" or "accomplished" in the way they do once they've completed a really intense workout class or won a game.

I feel "refreshed" and "accomplished" when I've written something that I'm proud of from the heart, when I've written a sentence that I know will make people laugh or cry. I know I'm not a profound writer, but that's why I wanted to go to school- to hone my writing skills.

I get that "refreshed" and "accomplished" feeling when I write a really great blog article that I'm proud of. However, because this is a public forum, I have to be cautious about what I write. I can't write about what I'd like to: my own life.

If I was a real author, or someone who could either write anonymously and have fictional characters play the people in my day to day life, writing would come so much more natural to me.

I tell myself, "write what you care about, what you're thinking- what you've gone through this week." But, the problem is: I'm a single 26 year old girl living in New York City. I go out almost every night, meet tons of new people, have a blast with my friends, enjoy every day of my life- and manage to have tons of fresh, new stories or topics to tell my friends on AIM and email every Monday (or sometimes, every day.)

I know- it doesn't sound like much of a problem.

The problem is that those stories and topics aren't suitable to be told to the public, well through this medium anyway. It's not that they're "Sex and the City" stories- it's just that they're too personal, or too Chelsea Handler-esque.

• Sometimes they're mundane (how we almost won Volleyball Bar Champs, but the title was wrongly given to another team.) 
• Sometimes they're ridiculous (a first date where the guy shows up drunk.) 
• But most times, they're either stories that I experience at 2AM on a Friday night with some of my friends or just raw emotions that I want to scream out to the world.

With that said, I'm stuck writing about the fall booties that I want from Dolce Vita, the Dooney and Burke bag I'm craving, or the awesome concerts I've been to recently.

I hope that explains why my blog writing lately has been sparse, bad, or just plain non existent. It's not that I have nothing going on- it's that I have too much going on.

Now that I've gotten that out... I'm really going to take up writing a book, for real this time. But, without the costs of getting a Masters.

Until that book comes out- here is a little baby upset about his new facial hair.

I hear ya, kid. Growing up sucks.