Yesterday, I fell on my longboard. Today, I started a blog.

Ok, first lie of the blog: technically I fell on Saturday and now it’s Tuesday, but I had the idea to start this blog on Sunday and thought that title sounded nice. Now on to the real story…

On Saturday August 6^th, I was lying on my couch, home alone, reading Donald Miller’s A Million Years in a Thousand Miles when I came across this line: “When we look back on our lives, what we will remember are the crazy things we did, the times we worked harder to make a day stand out.” After reading this line I was inspired…inspired to take an hour-long nap. But after that nap I was fully rested and truly inspired. I thought about turning on the TV and watching another season of How I Met Your Mother, Facebooking, and checking out the internets—but no, it was time to make the day memorable. I turned off the TV, got up from the couch, grabbed my longboard and headed to a hill across town I’d always wanted to carve down (don’t worry, I’m aware of how trendy/tool-ish I sound). I approached a hill before the hill I wanted to ride down and started pushing. At this point, I was feeling really good about myself. I’d gotten out of the house, was doing something I’d told myself I was going to do for a long time, and I was going to push the bounds of my longboarding skills. As I rounded the corner from the pre-hill to the hill I wanted I go down, I started to gain more speed than desired. I thought about stopping, or slowing myself with the brake of my Rainbow sandal, but then I was too high-and-mighty on my I-made-it-off-the-couch-mindset to halt the growing speed. Then I was faced with the hill. I hadn’t taken a look at it before going down it, I just went for it—big mistake. My speed only increased and my board became more and more wobbly. I attempted to carve from one side of the road to the other in order to regain control, but my board only grew ricketier with each swerve. I got scared. I imagined the board slipping out from under me, my tailbone being thrust to the ground, sprawling out my wrists in an attempt to brace myself, but shattering them instead. My imagination and fear got the best of me and I decided to bail. I leapt off the board thinking if I’d made the leap on my own accord--as opposed to gravity doing it--it would be more graceful and less painful. I was wrong. Gravity still won, that jerk. I rolled several time in a blur of road pavement and exposed legs. After the shock wore off, the adrenaline kicked in. I walked about a mile back home with my board under my arm, my head hung low, and the scrapes of my knees filling with blood.

Moral of the story and the point of this blog: I’m not the adventurous type. I wasn’t meant to make my days memorable by being daring on a longboard. I’m much more comfortable behind the safety of my Macbook screen, tap-tap-tapping away on the keys and producing writing. Bringing any of you readers up to speed on my current life situation, I graduated with a BA in English/Writing and a minor in linguistics and I’m 100% qualified to be unemployed. This blog is my way of coping with my recent entrance and grand welcome into what people call the “Real World”. I don’t want to fall on my longboard again, I don’t want to run a marathon, and I don’t want to be someone I’m not. I don’t want to do anything besides apply for jobs I’m not qualified for & ones I’m overqualified for while keeping up my writing skills by blogging on a regular basis. So I invite you all to follow my overly tame adventures in navigating the real world from the safety of my couch. 

Also, an update: it's 3 days after my wipeout and I'm in quite possibly the most pain I've ever been in. I can't bend my knees. The wounds are trying to scab and are causing a pins & needles sensation in the process. I walk like an old lady. And I'm pretty sure my left hand will need to be amputated in the future. That's what I get for leaving the couch.