So I Googled myself today. It was unfortunate. No really, if you want to take a shot to your ego try googling yourself. Other me is a doctor, an artist, photographer, poet, lobbyist and lawyer; but not a 23 year old college student majoring in Creative Writing. Not even all the way back on page 9. It's kind of discouraging really; I was thinking about it last night. And then I laughed that a mark of success in my generation is showing up on Google search engine.

I went to bed last night thinking of a million different topics for blog posting and then argued with myself about whether posting more than once a day would be weird. Of course this morning the only thing I remembered was that I decided why I didn't like blogging or bloggers (even though I guess I am one now). See, writers have this card that we like to play. It's the "that'll show up in a story somewhere" car, or "be careful or it'll show up in my novel" card. It's one that has been unique to writers, kind of our secret inside joke and always gets a chuckle among the snooty writer types. The blog kind of nullifies that card. Anyone can use it now; it's upsetting. What do we have now? We're kind of a nerdy bunch, we have to hang on to the cards we have :(

Oh and random...I think I filed my blog on some genealogy category because. I don't think this is going to be a blog about that.

I figured that I may as well give this a go while I'm trying to avoid writing about the role of the heroine in Madame Bovary. This semester has been rotten, royally rotten. Last semester good ideas were flying from my finger tips faster than I could keep up with and this semester, just sitting down to write 4-6 pagers has been an act of incredible discipline.

This is my senior year, my 6th year of college and I kinda hope that it's the last for a while. What sucks about college now though is that a BA isn't enough anymore. Has anyone else noticed that a MA is the standard now? A BA isn't enough, four years of killing yourself and living off of part time salaries isn't enough. Now they want a cut of your post graduation career. And while I love my field (Creative Writing and Publishing) I don't know if I can put myself through another 2 years of classes, papers, all nighters and coffee highs. But I'm terrified that if I don't put in the extra years, I'll end up as one of those sad English majors that works at Starbucks, long on dreams but short on opportunities.

So I got the idea for this blog months ago when my writer bone was itching. Unfortunately between my essays, stories and editorials for the paper, that bone got more than enough attention this semester. I'm not sure how I feel about entering the egocentric world of blogging, but I figure if I hate it, no one is grading me on it.

It's a fairly fantastic place to rant. Especially about my favorite subject: being a mildly pretty and moderately intelligent. Is there anything worse? Strictly hyperbolic of course but really.

Being moderately intelligent is being more intelligent than average, but far, far short of genius. Mildly pretty should explain itself, nothing to write home about but nothing too terribly tragic. The combination of those, in me at least, is an overabundance of confidence with the personality, if not the face to back it.

What I noticed later is that there are 2 adverbs in my title. Unfortunate, but this may become my adverb dumping ground since, largely thanks to Stephen King, we writers aren't supposed to use them.

Anyway, my sad little blog has been neglected for months and it's about time I pay some attention to it.

By the way, my latest discovery: Andrew Lee Potts. Cute enough to be endearing but not conventionally handsome enough to be obvious. My favorite kind.