So, if you follow me on twitter, or just read my twitter feed without actively following me 'cause then you'd have to set up your own account (you know who you are, lurkers), you may have noticed that I recently discovered that my mother reads my blog.
Yes, that is correct. My mother reads my blog.
Which is weird. Have you read my blog? Not exactly mom friendly material.
Unless your mother is my mother, in which case she will think it's awesome. (Because, you know, every mother's dream is for her daughter to grow up and tell the whole internet about her amazing ability to constantly find new ways to put herself in ridiculous situations while blindly stumbling her way through her early twenties.)
The more people I know read my blog, the tougher it gets to put it all out there, to risk the crazy amounts of honesty I've poured into it over the last year. When I started writing personal posts I challenged myself to write truthfully, but it's easy to lay out your soul when you think nobody's looking. I'm not saying I'm planning on changing anything. The picture of my blog written without painful honesty is not one I'm interested in. I'm just saying that I've reached new, uncharted territories with, as Lara called it, this online diary.
I'm working on taking on this new challenge, on having an easily stalkable internet persona and embracing the craziness that is my mother reading my blog.
I think this means I'm going to convince her to guest post 'cause my mother is hilarious, so I might as well meet this situation head on. She could write about whatever she wants (except Lost, fuck that shit) and then you might understand that the swearing and the sarcasm are just a product of my raising and I can prove to you that I wasn't joking in the FAQ section where it says my mother has been more punk rock than I could ever hope to be. Unless she chooses to write about "Say Yes to the Dress" in which case, I suspect nobody will believe a word I write ever again because watching that show is even less punk rock than the fact that the first time you heard my name was on a frakkin soap opera, Mom.