I wanted to fill you up with memories, commitments, dreams, lessons and random dumb stuff that made me chuckle.
I made a promise to keep you in touch with my heart, so you could write to each other about life, love, shoes and everything in between.
In the last couple of years, I had dreams about you. Big ones. Bought 3 other domains, barely wrote 4 articles and then let them babies to die. I’m a bad bloggie mama.
When I decided to name you after me, I thought that would make me more responsible somehow. It was literally a love letter to myself, but maybe I wasn’t ready to put myself out there or respond. Perhaps it was easier to fantasize about it then to live up to the dream.
Or maybe, I’m not really that interesting.
No, this is not a statement of humility.
This is me facing the empty truth.
I don’t have the stomach to promote you, even if that is what I do for a living, for other brands. For the past 10 years. My secret wish is that people would find you, somewhere in the depth of the internet and grow to love you as you grow old and young with them. I’m hoping that you’ll inspire people.
Let’s face the music: we don’t have a zany fashion style. We’re no influencer. Heck, we even have a problem with the word blogger. We’re barely warming up to the word writer – no pressure! We’re still figuring things out, the both of us.
I know I promised an article per week. I failed. And I’ll fail you again and again.
But know this: I think about you. A lot. More than I would like to confess. I want to share everything. Also, I don’t want you to be just about me. You can be bigger, bolder and braver than I ever could. You can build your own blend of wit, snark and honesty.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I believe in you.
And I’ll do better.
For the both of us.