Here's to nothing folks! (ha, what folks??)
Because I err on the side of meticulous with regard to clarity and truth in advertising, here's my opening statement. You can think of it as a faq, that is assuming people asked me questions, much less frequently. HA!
I am not a blogger. I have always liked the idea of recording one's own history in little blips and blabs through journaling, but have never been able to commit to such a habit. This is probably my 45837459347534987th attempt since early girlhood at having a diary of sorts. I'm going to view this as a project, like pretend I'm involved with the blogging 365 crowd or something. If I can jot something down once a day, that would be dope. If I can do it every other day, I'd be proud. If I write once a week, I will consider myself a success.
Who am I? I'm a mess. That's who I am. I usually start with the whole "I'm 30, I have 3 kids" bit, but that's not who I AM. I am a person who thinks about pointless stuff too much. A person who loves nail polish and musical theater. I'm loud. I am easily amused. I am socially liberal to a fault. I am an atheist who loves to analyze religion. I love books and all sorts of music and educational programming and NPR and science, and cluttery things that make me smile, and pop culture stuff (particularly 80s and 90s). I love bargains. Man, I LOVE bargains, and coupons and all that crap. Getting stuff my family needs for cheap or better yet, free? That gets me high. Not even a joke. I love my kitty cat. He's the best. I love sweets. My blood runs thick with sucrose. I love to laugh, and I love people who make me laugh. I love having friends, although I'm not so good at the whole social thing. I've got both a superiority AND an inferiority complex. Figure THAT out. I love my "significant other." We have 3 kids and have been together 11 years in Feb, but haven't gotten around to the making it official part (tentative for August 2011). He's fantastic. The only person I have ever trusted fully in my life. He makes me laugh more than anyone else ever has. He's awesome. And he always gives me my way ... eventually (*evil grin*). I love my kids. They rock, they're well behaved, they're good looking ... what else could a mommy want? Oh, yeah, they like the same kind of music I do. Roxxors!! No arguing over radio stations in the car! I love the interwebz. I love that I can play all these silly mindless clicky games on facebook. I love that I can meet (and have met) people I would NEVER have met without it. I love that I have the best group of girlfriends ever thanks to the internet. I guess, to sum it all up, I must be the girl who has it all.
What will I write about? Whatever the hell I please! This blog will have no focus. It is about ME. It's about what I like, what I want, what I don't like, shit that pisses me off, my kids, my rants, my raves and everything in between. I like to take pictures of trivial things and important ones alike. Expect to see some of each.
What does Razberiswrl mean? Is that, like, your favorite ice cream flavor or something? Umm ... no. It's my very own kre8tiv spelling for the words raspberry and swirl. Raspberry Swirl is the title of one of my favorite songs by my favorite artist, Tori Amos. Observe:
So, way back in, what? 1998 I think ... anyway, way back then when all you could really use to get online was AOL (omg! remember that shit?!?), the screen name/email address you chose had to be shorter than 14 characters or something like that. I picked razberiswrl and the rest is history. I feel like a Matrix loving nerd or something having an internet alias and all ... one of these days a background check is going to list that as an AKA or something, and then I'll be embarrassed. Even on forums where real names are used, people still call me Raz. It's cool though, because Raz is not an alternate personality, Raz is just an extension of me, my virtual extension.
Soooo, I guess I don't have anything else to talk about, and it's getting dangerously close to midnight (I want the first post to be on 1/1/10!), so I'll wrap it up, my dear imaginary audience.
Smell ya later ...