Today you turn one hundred and twenty months old!
When you began I was just 23 years old, working as a web slave. Now I am 33 years old, working as a web slave. Where did it all go right?
(Actually the current web slavery is just helps pay the bills; I do stuff on the side that brings a dose of fulfillment. So don’t close that browser! I’m not entirely a loser who has failed to evolve!)
Here are some statistics pertaining to this past decade together:
- moved house 7 times
- drove 3 cars
- had 5 jobs (excl. tedious temp gigs)
- became estranged from 1 parent
- saw Radiohead 3 times (plus one aborted mission)
- encountered 3 jolly bouts of depression
- tried and failed to learn 2 languages (French, Spanish)
- visited the United States 6 times
- attended 3 funerals
- started writing 1 novel
- finished writing 0 novel
- drank 0.5 beers (still can’t get into it)
- fell in love twice
- fainted twice
- vomited twice
- the previous three points are unrelated
In recent times many people told me to put you to sleep because of my gross neglect. Why keep you limping along? Why not just write everything on the fatty blog? I could never do that. Sure I got distracted by life and Dietgirl book writing and pimping then got self conscious for about two years… but you are my favourite online hideout. You’re small and cosy and nobody sends hate mail (yet!).
Thank you everyone out there who’s reading or ever read. I’ve met so many wonderful people and made some friends for life. I love reading about other people’s lives far more than wittering on about my own.
Now let us all pause and light a candle for online friendships that have drifted away, either dramatically, accidentally, reluctantly or inexplicably. You all rawk.
Here’s to blogging just for the hell of it.
P.S. My favourite moment of the last ten years of blogging? Probably the Pussycat T-Shirt of July 2000. I always peak too early!