Road trip Reflections: Why blog?

Baghdad was founded on July 30th year 761.  In 1629, on the same day, an earthquake in Naples, Italy killed 10,000 people. On July 30th, 1932, Walt Disney premiered Flowers and Trees, the first cartoon short to use Technicolor. It was also the first Academy award winning short. In 2006, the longest running music show, Top of the Pops, was broadcast for the last time on BBC. The show had been on the air for 42 consecutive years.

The list goes on and on. Thank you Wikipedia.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what this blog is meant to be. Most blogs have a focus. There are cooking blogs (like my friend Leia’s -go check it out!) where we find new and random recipes. Their food tells a story. There are blogs that inspire us with beauty and truth like Voskamp’s. I can’t read one of hers without crying. And then there are about a million blog sites created by post graduate students who are planning on going on mission trips, backpacking trips, or wish they were going on a trip and really don’t know what to do with their life. (Hence, the reason I first started writing to begin with). The way I saw it, with so many voices out there in the cyber world, it was very doubtful that anyone was really listening.

And then I went to India.

And I returned to find out that my sweet mother had shared my aimless, stream of consciousness-type “post grad blog” with her entire social media world. Before I knew it, I was getting notification after notification informing me that people I did not know had subscribed to my blog. 1. This was incredible. 2. This was terrifying. It meant that people other than my college roommates (who not only read the posts, but who often read the rough drafts as well) and my grandma were reading things I had written. Thus, I began to really think about what this blog was meant to be. And then I read an interesting blog post by a girl named Stephanie. She had posed somewhat of the same question to herself. What was the purpose or the focus of her writing?

To tell a story. And so is mine.

The reason I finally broke down and decided to become an English major wasn’t because I was fantastic at grammar or punctuation–or that I loved writing twenty page papers–or that I loved filtering through dozens of academic journal articles on Bleak House. No, anyone who has read anything I’ve ever written knows that I use commas as frequently as Emily Dickinson and as inconsistently as most post modern writers. I do what I can. Those rules just never seemed to stick. I chose to major in English because I love stories. I love hearing stories, writing down stories, and making up stories. I love people because they are a story. Our lives are stories.

Some days, extremely significant things happen. Movies receive academy awards. Earthquakes change the course of thousands of people’s lives. Cultures change. And then some days, simple little ordinary things happen that are just as important to the fabric of someone’s life.

On July 30th, 2013, the first national Audremma Day (a holiday established by two college friends) was celebrated by my friend Emma and myself. Yes, we named a day after ourselves. We danced in the kitchen as we made pancakes. We conversed about her trip to Europe and my trip to India. “I almost got arrested because I lost my train ticket.” “A mongoose snuck into our bedrooms.” “I hitchhiked through part of Germany because we missed the last train.” “I rode an elephant.” That’s about how it went.

We walked around the city of Knoxville in a sugar coma, gorging ourselves on delicious snicker-doodle cupcakes found on none other than Pinterest.  We ate thai food with her fab fiancé. We looked at books and talked about books and spent hours and hours figuring out the layout of her wedding reception as mosquitos bit our ankles and wet grass stuck to our shoes. But that day was important. Because the story of our friendship is important to us. So, in a way, I guess that’s what this blog is meant to be. A story book–a sort of scrap book of the fabulous, the mundane, and the thought provoking parts of my life. Of [our] lives.

Who doesn’t love heart pancakes?
Skill and artistry
Ever had a strawberry pancake? You should have thought of that one, Jack Johnson.
Sure, I’ll carry all the chinese take out boxes filled with Thai food.

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