You know, I’ve never stopped writing.
This website, like the general blogging sphere of existence, has lain dormant for so long. Sure, I’ve technically made some posts in the past few years, but they haven’t been original. They’ve been recycled from Instagram, or they’re links to my YouTube channel that yes, I’m going to link to once again here. That’s not the same.
But that doesn’t mean I ever stopped writing.
Those long, lengthy Instagram posts became my outlet for a long time, along with the occasional video essay vlog style video, the creation of I find both supremely enjoyable but also incredibly exhausting to make. And I’ve always had some sort of outlet, a place for the outside-of-work things, hinting back at that weird, unending feeling that I need to be creating in some sort of way.
But I never stopped writing, either.
I have a great office setup in the front of my house (oh by the way, I really love my house), and when I’m home I get to open up the windows and let the sunlight in. It’s everything I didn’t have for many of those older years of writing where I would have to go sit in a coffee shop in order to get the natural light in because my house and office sorely lacked good windows. They always had windows, but not good ones. Not living ones.
And sometimes when I sit in that room, I write.
Across from my desk sits a couch. It was my grandmother’s couch, a sleeper sofa that sat in her living room for who knows how many years and I sat on it who knows how many times. When I’m at my desk, my dog climbs onto the couch to stare out of the window. She never sits on the couch itself, instead climbing onto the back or arm in order to stay alert. I have no idea what she hopes to see outside, but she waits patiently for any sort of neighborhood walker, a bike rider, maybe just a squirrel. I will go up to her and give her some scratches and a hug, and sometimes I can still smell the unique smell of my grandmother’s house still lingering on that couch. I miss her. I think she would like where her couch ended up. She would like the dog who takes up residence on the couch.
And as I think about these things, I want to write about them.
I don’t know, maybe I’m a lot like my dog in that regard. I laugh at her for doing the same thing every day, staring out the window and acting like she is keeping us safe. The truth is that she wouldn’t leave the house even if the door was left open, she’s too co-dependent for that. And she wouldn’t protect us from anyone who came in, she would be too excited about having a new playmate. But she does it, day after day, and it cracks me up. She’s happy to live the life that she’s been given, and I’m jealous of that most of the time.
So here I am, revamping this website to shake off the weird old history surrounding it and beginning something new. Just as my dog can’t help but stare out the window, wanting to bark at anything and everything, so I can’t help wanting to write about anything and everything that pops into my head. Bad fiction, useless observations, little anecdotes, all of it constantly swirling and demanding that I record the words or else they will leave my mind forever.
It’s no surprise that I let this website die many years ago. I got disillusioned with the way the blogging world became less about the content and more about creating a lot of it. I had no idea the foreshadowing that actually lay in that situation, as we now live in an algorithm of a world where people obsess about making as much stuff as they can and hoping some of it gets them noticed. I felt that way too from time to time, and even the tiny amount that I thought I cared about drove me crazy. Then it dawned on me: I never needed to care. After all, this was a site that started as a joke, this stupid unsubstantiated claim that I could create the Greatest Blog of All Time. It was nothing more than I wanted it to be, and so it should be again.
That’s why I’m here, carving out my own little space away from the algorithms that try to dictate the way that I think about doing what I enjoy. This is my little window to stare out of, to ponder on the world, or at least to ponder about screaming at people who jog by. My dog and I share a love for carving out our own little space to make our very own. That’s what this website was always supposed to be.
I never stopped writing. I only stopped sharing. I think it’s time to go back to my roots.
Welcome (back) to the GBOAT.