So this is blogging.

Maybe it’s me, but it always sounded like a dirty word. A playground word 11-year-olds would whisper together while huddled in a circle beneath the jungle gym and giggle.

“She’s a blogger.” Hehehe

The nervous kind of laughter that often comes with novice acts of rebellion; a facade for the insecurity, the fear. So maybe that’s what I’m doing now as an adult. With a blog. I’m an adult with a blog. Yuppie badge officially earned.

But now that I know what the word actually means, blogging isn’t nearly as risque or mutinous as I had thought. It’s pretty much anything but. It’s a safe way of reminding yourself you’re normal and maybe (luckily) somewhat interesting. Now that I know what this blogging thing is all about, I’m a little bummed. But that’s how it always goes, doesn’t it? The words are so much more potent when you have no idea what they mean.

So here I blog. And giggle nervously. And hope that the eight people who might actually read this won’t make fun of me later for it. So I continue to giggle and act like it doesn’t matter. If these words, which are inevitably pointless anyway, simply end up wafting aimlessly in cyberspace with no audience to speak of, I’ll be a tad disappointed. But hopefully no one will be able to tell.

And dat’s tha truth.