With my last final turned in and summer ahead, I found myself in that strange new moment of transition – after something has ended, but before something else has quite begun. I’ve started blogs before (and never stuck with them), so I was prepared for the awkwardness of that first post – the one that WordPress generically titles “Hello World!” It’s starting out, before experiences and habits accumulate, that can be most lonely.
Still in my school routine, I woke up early this morning and hauled my sluggish, carb-fed post-finals body on a run around Grounds. The warm, sticky humidity of another Virginia summer clung to me, and I wondered how cool and misty humidity would feel in Scotland. I’ve never been to Europe, but I’ve heard that it’s the little things, the previously unnoticed details, that give you a sense of difference. I remember being in Mexico, where sidewalks were a slightly different width and buildings a slightly different height.
And then I came home. And sat down. Opened WordPress. Started to type.
So – how to start? What can I say in this first post that will open the floodgates for many posts to follow?
I’m not sure what this blog will come to mean to me, but I do know what I don’t want it to be:
I also kind of have a sense of the atmosphere I want:
And more than anything, I want to grow with this blog. I hope to sharpen my observations, lose the sense of constant self-editing and hesitation, and get to know my own writing voice in a new way.
Expecting the first post in a new blog to be groundbreaking and compelling and earn you one million viewers right off the bat is like expecting to be cast in Swan Lake in your first ballet lesson – it’s just not going to happen. In this suspended moment of transition, I can just look ahead and wonder. The answers will come later.