Emily, what are you doing? I thought you weren't blogging until December.
Yes, well, it is currently 11:50 P.M. and the only things I have accomplished today are (in order): eating mozzarella sticks for breakfast, rereading Paper Towns for just about the 9.7th time since autumn started, and crying over the beautiful train wreck that was Liz Lemon's wedding. (What happened to the plan, Liz?) I'm too terrified to even look at my NaNo novel, much less try and edit it, in fear of projectile vomiting all over my computer screen due to my nauseatingly Full House-esque dialogue. So blogging seemed like the only option right now.
You do realize you're blogging every day for like, 31 days, right? Shouldn't you be saving your ideas?
Yeah... that sounds like a problem for future Emily--you know, the same girl who has to take care of my trigonometry homework, memorize my choreography, and clean my room. I've really been piling it on her these days. Poor kid. Never even stood a chance.
Deliberate self-cruelty aside, what I want to talk to you about today is that age old question: when is it appropriate to start celebrating Christmas? Where does that magical, undecided day fall when I can pull out the tinsel, crank up the Harry Connick Jr., and drink myself into an eggnog-induced stupor?
This is a very difficult question to answer because really, it's different for everyone. I know people who descend into the deep caverns of their basement--flashlight and spider-killing shoe at the ready--to retrieve that nightmarish blow-up Santa Clause the day after Halloween. I also know those crotchety grumps who are, quote, "disgusted by the media's grotesque take on the commercialization of Christmas and blatant consumerism of today's society." So they Scrooge it up until around the 18th, all the while glaring at you as you hang up your Christmas lights on November 27th. Me, I guess I sort of fall in the middle. I live in America, so I don't think it's very fair to a certain holiday that celebrates being content with the things you already have in life, if you just skip over it and get to the good part with all the shiny boxes with the pretty red bows. And I do believe that... to a certain extent.
The thing is, I also understand that there is absolutely nothing wrong with celebrating Christmas early. I know this is kind of an obvious thing to say, but Christmas is fun! It's fun to decorate trees and make gingerbread houses and watch Christmas specials. If that's the kind of stuff that makes you happy and gets you excited, do it! And don't let other people make you feel bad about showing your enthusiasm. A vlogger I follow, Margaret, recently made a video on this subject and she had some interesting thoughts on the matter. If you simply cannot understand why anyone would choose to hang their stockings before the turkey is served, this may be the slap in the face you need. It certainly was for me. (Also, you should look at some of her other videos because she's pretty cool.)
It doesn't matter when you celebrate Christmas. If doesn't even matter if you celebrate Christmas at all. So if you're one of those people who judges that girl who proudly struts around campus in her reindeer sweater in early November, take a minute to think about it. Is what she's doing really so offensive that it completely ruins the holiday season for you? If the answer is no, you may proceed with your day without gabbing to your friends about how much you hate it when people don't have the patience to wait until after Thanksgiving. If the answer is yes, you're an asshat.
See you in December for the start of Blogmas! (For real this time.)
Monday, November 26, 2012
I guess this first post is supposed to be the equivalent of that awkward first date with the guy your friend set you up with because she thinks he'd be "really into you," and because you need to "stop watching Battlestar Galactica 6 hours a day." As if. But you know the date I'm talking about: he takes you to an Applebee's so that the obnoxious laughter coming from the tables around you will hopefully mask the painfully uncomfortable lulls in the conversation. The guy would be pretty cute if his nose were a little smaller and he didn't slouch so much, and you kind of regret shaving your legs just so you could wear an itchy skirt. It could've been a good date if it weren't so damn awkward.
So for the sake of my sanity and the freezing skin on your legs, we're going to try and get through this first post as quickly as possible. Let's begin with the introduction: I'm Emily. I'm a 16-year-old nerdfighter and connoisseur of young adult fiction whose obsession with YouTube borderlines on sociopathic. And I'm also quite a fierce Monopoly player. (Tip: Don't waste your time on utilities.) I think that's enough information for now, considering the only person who will probably ever read this is my father. (Hi, Dad.)
The next obvious question is: why are we going on this date? Am I looking for a longterm relationship or just trying to get back in the game? There isn't a clean-cut reason why I wanted to start a blog. It was more like a bunch of tiny reasons. It's like when a rainstorm begins--it never all comes down at once. Instead, there are are a few small raindrops before the downpour. This month, I participated in NaNoWriMo, which if you don't know, stands for National Novel Writing Month and it basically works like this: you sit in front of your computer and go crazy while you write 50,000 words in 30 days. I won three days ago when I reached 50,070 words and a brand new level of insanity. And I realized that I liked writing. I liked it more than a lot of things: hot sauce, bracelets, turtles that fit in the palm of your hand. Then, one of my favorite youtubers, apeckofowls, started her own blog yesterday. She decided that she wanted to blog every day in December leading up til Christmas. I knew that after a marathon like NaNo, I was going to need something to occupy my time with if I didn't want to end up rewatching the entirety of Scrubs on Netflix for the third time. So, being the massive follower that I am, I wanted to do it too. And that about brings you up to speed.
In all fairness, I feel I've got to warn you now: I've only been writing for a couple of months. I have about as much experience writing as a baby has reading Shakespeare. I can't promise to be good at this blogging thing. But hey, if a dog can do it, so can I, right? Who am I kidding? I'll never be as great a literary talent as Stan. But a girl's gotta try.