My mom praised me the other day for being the easiest child in the world to raise: I never caused trouble or seriously crossed any lines. I didn’t need a pesky curfew like my sisters did – mom and dad knew I’d never go out drinking or go necking with a strange boy. I was allowed to watch TV while I did my homework because I brought home straight A’s. I could have friends over when M&D were gone because my friends were trustworthy, wholesome, from church. My worst offense as a kid seems to have been that my bedroom was always a mess. I didn’t drink before I was 21. I didn’t have a real boyfriend until I was 26. And we didn’t have sex. Partly because he was gay.
But still. I was a major Good Girl. And where has it gotten me? Things haven’t quite panned out as I thought they would (more on that to come). I need to sort some stuff out. Do a little self-examination, if you will. Comments and questions are most welcome.
It will probably get ugly, in part because there’s a lot of Conservative Christianity in the story. Although what’s kooky about that is that I’m not going to be bashing it, exactly. But I’m not going to be praising Focus on the Family either, which is going to make at least one good friend of mine unhappy since she used to work for them and still harbors a fantasy that I’m going to marry this evangelical state senator she knows, move back to the Midwest where we grew up, and raise babies with her.
My blog experiment is probably going to be a time-delimited thing. As in, once I figure stuff out, I might stop writing. But who knows. Like every single other blogger I know, I have a secret dream of being published someday.
I hope my mom doesn’t find my blog.