So, yesterday I looking over some old blog posts, a little nostalgically. It's kind of fun (and possibly a small bit masochistic in the oh-man-I-remember-that-day-and-it-was-a-doozy sort of way).
I re-read the first two posts I ever made, which got picked up by Offbeat Families (formerly Offbeat Mama). I was a guest-poster there for a little while before they decided I was a little too disgruntled and a little not enough happy-go-lucky. I am actually a pretty happy person, you know, dabbles in depression, anxiety and disgruntledness with the world notwithstanding. True story. Not altogether sure why they'd have thought I was going to be in any way a happy-go-lucky kinda writer in the first place, what with the tenor of these first two posts. But there you go. I got columnist dumped. (Angry feminist mama strikes again...)
Anyways - in re-reading those first two blogs, I was freaking blown away at how different my life was when I first moved here to Redneckville. Okay, yeah - pretty much completely different - except I still have the small-fry, bless their wee small-fry hearts. But the thing that really stood out for me was how incredibly holy-hell isolated I was at the time I was writing. At home with the kidlets, tucked away in the north end in a neighbourhood full of old people that was so quiet you could hear a pin-drop), in an unfamiliar city, with very few friends, and almost no queer community to speak of. Holy crap! I'm amazed I came through that time as well-adjusted *tongue-firmly-in-cheek-there-folks* as I did.
p.s. You should check out offbeat families. It's pretty good stuff. You know, for happy-go-lucky writing ;)