The story of the half-empty diaries...

I can honestly say that never, ever did I ever think that I would start a blog.

Never.

The reasons for this statement are that: 1) Up until about twenty-four hours ago I wouldn't have had any idea where to start. I still kind of don't. In fact, by the time I've actually published this first post it will probably have gone through about a thousand drafts. 2) I don't have any sort of obsession or extreme interest that would motivate me enough to write regularly about it. I do not love fashion enough to have a personal style blog and even though I do love music, I do not have the time to constantly look for the new and undiscovered. I do, however, seriously love to bake, which anyone who has ever lived with me most likely knows. So there will probably be plenty of posts on that topic. And 3) I don't have any sort of special insight or expertise that would lead me to presume that what I write would actually be interesting and informative to others. Despite my academic history I can in no way claim to be a professional or specialist of any kind, and I wouldn't even dream of pretending that I was.

So, bearing all of this doubt and disinterest in mind, how has this blog that you are currently reading even come into existence? I'm glad you asked. Ever since I could write a coherent and legible sentence (maybe even before) I have been starting and abandoning diaries. Each time I would spend anywhere from two days to two months feverishly working away on what was going to be "the diary I finally kept up" only to have my interest wane and my entries become shorter and shorter, until ceasing entirely. Several things could motivate me to begin writing again. Sometimes a life event would seem so pivotal that to not document it would have been a tragedy (e.g. my elementary school crush which lasted from third to fifth grade). Other times hearing about someone else keeping a diary, like a friend or a character in a book or movie reminded me just how necessary it was to divulge the fascinating events of my life so that someone, somewhere might one day know about them. Why I ever thought the details of my middle-class, suburban life would be as interesting as those of Anne Frank's was beyond me. Even just seeing the most beautifully bound journal in a shop that I just had to have could kick-start that itch to write.

And write I would. For the first few days of my writing frenzy I would faithfully jot down as much of my day as I could remember. My musings were influenced by a mix of my own experiences and the writing styles of those I admired. When Amelia filled her classic, lined notebooks with quirky musings about her classroom shenanigans and taped memorabilia between the pages, so did I. When Cassandra detailed life in her castle home in rural England, I dutifully described my grandparents two story, mid-western home. With each new beginning came a new style, a new voice and a new-found passion for the written word.

Alas, all of these attempts went the same way - chugging along at first, fueled by a blast of promises and good intentions, then slowly, but surely petering out to a final end. The worst part about all of this is that each time I began writing again I felt the need to start afresh, with a new journal, as if this would prevent another episode of laziness, loss of interest and ultimate diary failure. These episodes were inevitable, however, and the cycle that ensued led to a large collection of diaries with mainly empty pages. Over the years these diaries were further joined by an army of notebooks containing the beginnings of fictional stories and half-attempted sketches. I may actually be the queen of the unfinished. This happened so many times throughout my childhood and adolescence that when I moved away from home this stack of abandoned books required its own box for storage. I can prove it. Ask my mom.

I think my last diary attempt was sometime during my junior year of high school. That is, if you don't count my attempt at keeping a Live Journal somewhere around the same time. It was a trend. Let's leave it at that. For the last six or so years I have felt that there was really no point in even trying as I knew how the attempt would ultimately end. And I was pretty resolute, until...

Almost exactly a year ago I moved to England. I made this move to explore a new country, attempt a master's program and yes, I'll admit it, for *gasp* a boy. This move has led to nothing short of an adventure, much of which I have been relaying to a close friend, and my mother, through long, complicated emails that just don't seem to capture the experience. I tried to cram as much detail into these emails as I could, without making the reader's head spin, but it just never seemed to be enough. Most of my other friends and I have kept up through Facebook messages and posts, but again, I never seem to be able to keep these to a reasonable amount and I end up writing an essay when all they clearly wanted from me was confirmation that I was alive and that I did, in fact, miss them too. If I could have written a mass message to everyone who was interested on a regular basis, detailing the interesting things about my life in England, perhaps this would have solved the problem.

Then, one day (yesterday), whilst perusing some of my favorite blogs it came to me - A BLOG! Of course! How could I not have thought about it before? Many of my friends have had blogs, either permanent or temporary, and the personal ones can actually be interesting when you know the person writing it. So, there you are. This is the thought process and super long history of why this blog was created.

I will say right away that I do not, in any way, consider myself to be a writer or even that interesting. This blog is mainly directed toward any family and friends who might want to know what is going on in my life. It is meant to be an easy way to keep people updated without having to send multiple emails or spend loads of money on international calling charges. That being said, I will try to make this blog interesting. I promise to post lots of pictures and write about things other than what is going on inside of my own head. I also swear that I will do a little research on how to maintain a good blog, though I can't make any promises about actually sticking to the rules. I already know that one of them is to write about a theme, interest or obsession, which I have already stated I will clearly not be doing.

Most importantly, I will really, truly, on my honor, try my hardest to keep writing each week. I vow not to let this become a half-empty blog. And should I fail, I give you permission to tease me mercilessly for the rest of my life (i.e. "Remember that time when Amanda thought she could have a blog?").

Love.

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