My mom gave me a call a few months back.

“Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi mom, what’s up?”

“Nothing, just checking in on you. How’s the job?”

“Well, not terrible. I’m finally getting to write.”

“Well that’s good! That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah, but they also have me on the phones. It feels like they’re gonna transition me out of it, and I don’t want to.”

“Well, have you considered starting your blog again? So many people get noticed from their blogs nowadays.”

Ha.

Ha.

Yeah. Okay, mom.

Back in college, I had to create a blog in my English 101 course, where I would get to choose my own topic. It was awesome, clean, and fun. I basically bitched about inane things, from Dr. Pepper to airlines (so original). And I called it “What Boils My Egg.”

And, despite the fact that it’s a blatant ripoff from Family Guy’s “What Grinds My Gears,” it was good. The collegiate paper e-mailed me, asking me to contribute to the opinions section. And I did.

For 4 years.

And besides my girlfriend, my debt, and the scraggly hairs on my arms, it’s been pretty much the only thing that’s remained constant over that time. Now that I’m in the real world, changes are coming at me fast.

I tried to start back on the blog bandwagon earlier this year, so I could write “freely.” That means swearing. Lots of swearing. And poop jokes. Tons of jokes involving poop. As many as I can make.

My mother’s first response?

“Well, I mean it’s good, but…it might be a little dirty. Don’t you want it to get picked up?”

Eh. Kinda. It’d be nice. But what’s the point of writing my own blog if I wasn’t being myself? And, frankly, I’m pretty much all swearing and poop jokes.

The clock just struck midnight. I’m writing this on December 10th, 2013. 12:00 AM. And due to circumstances out of my control, I find myself unemployed. And broke. And wondering what the fuck I’m going to do for Christmas gifts, for gas money, for private loan payments.

Which brings me back to the blog. In all honesty, I’m not expecting much. Shit, I’m writing on a blog that has “.wordpress.com” in the domain name because I can’t even afford my own. This post will probably never get seen beyond maybe 8 of my Facebook friends, or if I’m lucky, sometime later next year by people accidentally clicking on the archive. I’ll never be as talented of an artist as The Oatmeal, or as informative as Ask A Manager, or as attention-hungry as Buzzfeed (thank Christ), but I’m gonna find myself out here.

In the meantime, I think I’m gonna go back to Netflix and add shit to my instant queue, which I’ll probably never watch.

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