Where Were We?
I don't know where to begin.
That's the best way to begin a blog post, because it gets the whole awkwardness of ... whatever this is, out of the way. I think. Dawson's Creek is playing in the background. Gringo is on the bed, he was snuggling with me earlier but we got into a fight and I ended up with a small scratch on my leg. GREAT WORK, MEREDITH. I WAS JUST TRYING TO LOVE YOU AND NOW YOU OWE ME 40 MILLION DOLLARS.
My Laptop's busted. It's one of the reasons why I haven't been here lately. I tried to do the whole blogging on my phone thing but it's not the same. I grew up typing on typewriters. A keyboard is needed, it's like wanking off but for my fingers. Wait.
I have so many feelings these days. But what's new. I won't be myself if I hadn't been overflowing with feelings. I've pulled myself off of Facebook temporarily. It's getting too toxic. I used to hate the comments section of posts uploaded by The Times (let's pretend I'm from New York and when I say "The Times", you know I'm referring to New York Times), Guardian, Time, etca, etca, etca (and yes I totally just pulled a Morgan on you. I'm smarter than you may have thoughten). It was a joy for me to be sharing my thoughts and for people agree with me while some call me an idiot.
I figured maybe I should do that here? But that would make my blog too political. But I'm getting older. I can't help but have strong opinions on current events. But listen to me talk about "current events" and I'm watching Season 3 of Dawson's Creek. Lol?
I've been cooped up at home lately, working remotely.
Been going through boxes and boxes and boxes almost everyday, down to the last 10 smaller ones in my parents' old room. It's quite a challenge sorting through 17 years of my life. Everything is supposedly a part of my life, everything has a trace of my Mom, so it's tough to let some of them go. If I'm a Hoarder, my Mom is the Queen. But I love her just the same. I laugh whenever I unearth most of the things she kept. Mom, we do not need all these wet tissues. Mom, why have you kept 7 years worth of used prepaid cards. Oh, I miss you.
What do you want us to talk about? I'd want to word vomit on the internet on a regular basis again. Maybe everyday? Is that bad?
Ah yes, this is where we left off.
Alright, here we go.