a quick hello

These last couple weeks have been somewhat hellish for me and I haven't had time to do the usual things like homework and laundry so, needless to say, I haven't been blogging either. I haven't even been reading my favorite blogs! I am working on playing catch-up now, so expect updates soon! I am thinking of doing a little redesign as well, so we'll see how that goes. And, best of all, I'll be able to read and see what I've been missing out on.

For now, I'll simply say I am alive, my friends and family are still alive, even if not well, and I haven't forgotten about this place. I'm thinking I'll be putting eight to ten hour days in over the next few days at the computer to get reasonably caught up on all the things I need to do, but I'll get there.

xoxo.

wait a minute mr postman

You know what I really miss? postcards! and letters! I miss getting things that aren't bills in the mail! Whatever happened to writing to those that you care about? I am not saying we all need to go out and write our Aunt Gertrude and third-cousin Suzy every week, but what about the people that hold a special place in our hearts that we don't get to see very often? I can't remember the last time I have received an actual, legit, letter via snail mail... I know it has been years. I barely remember the last e-mail I got that was more than five or six lines long that wasn't spam. When my ex was in Iraq, we e-mailed back and forth for awhile, but that was it. And even that was more of a rarity after the first month. Sometimes I will send Facebook messages back and forth with friends, but that is really about it. As for everyone else, it is the era of the text message. Anytime any one of us has something to say, we just shoot off a text and, voila! I suppose it gets the job done, and I am a texting fiend myself, but it just isn't quite the same.

Sure, getting an picture message from someone with a snapshot of a crazy lady in Wal-Mart can be fun. I love that I can see how the weather is at the beach thirty seconds after you have. But none of this compares to that neat feeling you get when you open your mailbox and there's a postcard from a friend, mailed from some podunk town somewhere along their summer road trip. Maybe it is because you know, when you open that postcard or that letter, that that friend had to make an effort to get that to you. He or she had to purchase the postcard or the stationary. Then, there was some writing involved. After that, stamps had to be acquired and your address had to be looked up. Then your friend made a special trip to take the mail to the post office or mailbox, and the postal workers did all kinds of work to bring that piece of paper halfway across the country to you two days later. Writing a letter isn't an afterthought. It's not something you can do while at a stoplight, in line at the grocery store, or, God forbid, on the toilet (yes, I know people who do this).

A few years back, an internet friend of mine proposed that we start some sort of underground mail gang thing. I know he sent me a really awesome letter to start things off, but I don't know if I ever even replied back. I wish I had. I wish we still had pen pals, too! I love technology and all that, but sometimes I feel like it doesn't really bring us together after all, but instead keeps us all a safe distance apart.

I am writing myself a note right now: write letters this week. I know that I won't do it just because I said I would, so let's just say this...if I don't write (and mail!) at least two letters and/or postcards in the next seven days, I will give up Facebook for a week. Okay, at least a weekend. Wish me luck!

hush hush

Have you ever had a good secret that just bubbled up inside of you all day long, dying for you to share it with not just someone, but everyone? The kind of secret that makes it impossible to concentrate on anything else? One that keeps you up at night, yet keeps you going all day long on full speed anyway? A secret that makes it difficult to eat, to work, to concentrate on all of your comparatively unimportant daily tasks? The kind of secret that almost seems to sustain you all on its own?

There is something inherently different about these happy secrets--they seem to have an energy about them that drives you and distracts you and just oozes out of you until you think you're about to go crazy from trying to internalize something so absolutely monumental.

It is like those first-day-of-school jitters, the excitement of an upcoming vacation, the news of a big promotion, and the agony of waiting to be reunited with a lover, all at once.

If you're lucky enough to have one person to share your secret with, you feel like all you can talk about is "the secret." You never tire of discussing your secret ad infinitum, and awaiting the day, together, when your secret is spilled to the rest of the world. You bond over your secret, and talking to anyone else seems unable to satiate your need for human connection anymore, because noone else can give you what your secret-sharer can.

But the question remains to be answered: what is the shelf-life of a secret? When will it start to go stale? Will it cease to be enough and send you looking for something more? If you share your secret, will it be some sort of cathartic release or will the magic of your secret fade away as it is absorbed into the world? Or will a new secret take its place, slipping into your life just as quickly as the first, surprising you with that familiar electrifying energy?

I will be sure to let you know as soon as I find out. ;)

introduction

I created this blog partly because my English Comp teacher said I really should keep writing even though my class with him was over, and partly because I had something to say at this very moment... Only now that I've taken the time to find someplace to write it down, I have completely forgotten what it was that I wanted to say in the first place.

So instead, a disclaimer:
This blog is entitled 'inconsideration.' According to dictionary.com:
in·con·sid·er·ate [in-kuhn-sid-er-it]
–adjective
1.
without due regard for the rights or feelings of others: It was inconsiderate of him to keep us waiting.
2.
acting without consideration; thoughtless; heedless.
3.
overhasty; rash; ill-considered: slovenly, inconsiderate reasoning.

It is likely that I will be inconsiderate of many things when I write here, including your political views, your taste in music, and the rules of grammar and punctuation most certainly. Also, I must mention that my "k" key likes to get stuck and I don't always feel like going back and adding in the missed letters, so please forgive me.

That said, this will probably be one of the few times that I address you, my audience, directly since this blog is more for me than it is for you and I feel awkward writing to an imaginary person anyway. If anyone is reading this, thanks, and please do leave me a comment to say hello =)