People who blog on a regular basis amaze me. What on earth do people do in their every day lives that is so intriguing that they must write about it all and share with complete strangers? What about their personal experience is so damn important that it warrants an entire website devoted to their thoughts, feelings, relationships etc.? Is blogging an act of self-righteousness? Do we think we’re better or cooler or more hip if we have a trendy blog? Is it an attempt to give our lives meaning or validation by having others comment on and approve of the choices we make that we’ve broadcasted to the world? I simply don’t get it.

And yet here I am.

I don’t have anything against blogging. I really don’t. The above questions are merely an attempt by me to understand the world in which I’m soon to immerse myself. I imagine that my entering the blogging community will be difficult, because I honestly don’t think that my life experience is interesting enough to scribble down. Maybe it is, but I suppose I feel no real need to share it with the world. But I’ll try. 

So here begins my blogging experience. Perhaps I’ll learn something about myself in doing this. Perhaps I’ll realize what I theorized could very easily happen, that this whole thing is silly and I don’t have anything to say. If I do come up with things to say, I imagine there’ll be numerous references to the food I eat and meals I enjoy. I like food. It’s a severe passion of mine, eating that is. My blog may be filled with lists of things I need to do or categories I’ve made up about the things I encounter. You may be seeing me bitch a lot. I like to bitch. I’m not a negative person, but I’ve found that I have the incessant need to update those around me with things I don’t like. It’s strange. I have no secrets, I don’t like to lie, and I don’t easily let things roll off my back. This blog may very well be filled with my grievances about trivial things. I am easily disgruntled. I don’t know why. I wish I wasn’t, so if any of you out there know how to fix this then please let me know.

I’m pretty sure no one will read this blog. If you happen to stumble upon it, welcome. My name is Allyson, by the way. It’s nice to meet you. If we were meeting in real life, I’d give you a very firm handshake. My father taught my sisters and I to always offer a firm handshake. People know you’re for real when you have a firm handshake. I don’t really know what that means, but it makes sense, doesn’t it?