I've done a fairly good job of late of keeping personal stuff off of here. I'm fighting an inner battle here about whether or not to be sports only on this blog. I kind of feel its a lose-lose. I mean, the only reason to go sports only is to maximize exposure. But the thing about blog exposure for a journalist (or a wannabe, like myself) is that blogs don't get the respect that we would like professionally. And frankly, I think I'd feel pressure to post and cover and as this blog has been a good outlet for me, I don't really want to feel pressured into doing it. Plus, I feel like we've got a nice little blog circle going here and you all don't only want to read about Wisconsin sports.
Incidentally, I have wanted to post on here a lot lately about more personal life stuff, but I'm ever afraid of becoming too self-indulgent and frankly I'm certain I'm not that interesting.
It's been a rough few weeks already and we're heading into the home stretch. My big 2-5 is coming up a week from today. Normally, I'm one of the obnoxious birthday junkies. I'll admit, I'm that girl you all hate who wants everyone to make a big deal out of me.
The thing is, I'm fairly certain my birthday is jinxed. Nothing but bad things happen around my birthday. My grandpa died the week of my birthday and they were all set to have the funeral on my 16th birthday until I walked in the room and (in a very small voice) said maybe that wouldn't be so nice. Then my dad had his stroke a few days before my 19th birthday. Finally, my dad died 3 days after my birthday last year.
So frankly, this week is a crapload of bad memories. And I absolutely am not doing a very good job of coming to terms with the fact that my dad has been gone a year. Surreal isn't even the word.
On the upside, being preoccupied with that is helping to distract me from the rather alarming fact that I'm turning 25. And that I'm turning 25 while still living at home.
Finally, as if false hope were somehow the only thing needed to make this rather heady self-pity cocktail complete, Florida called this week. They wanted to know if I was sure that I couldn't move down there and take the job.
So, you know, invites going out this week for a rather spectacular pity party. I'll be the one in the pointy hat.