From 1997 through 2007, I was classified as a “twenty-something.” It was a fun, terrifying, lonely, awesome experience, one that I look back upon with great nostalgia for the naturally occurring collagen and elastin in my skin, great indifference at my nose-piercing, and great horror at my work attire.
At the bottom of my post, I’ve linked up with some of the best writers and funniest women out there to discuss 10 REASONS YOU SHOULD BE GLAD I DIDN’T BLOG IN MY 20′s. Click over and check them all out, I guarantee a good time.
10. HOW TO GET FAT WHILE BACKPACKING THROUGH EUROPE
Dear 20-Year-Old-Tarja: While it’s true that you would have been a shoe-in for the job of documenting “The Greater & Lesser Known Carbs of Western Europe & Scandinavia” for Fodor’s Travel Guides, no one needs to actually see a photo of another fucking field of lavender or the stained glass window of a cathedral. OR DO THEY? Maybe the world needs to know that you sat in a lot of cafes and drank a lot of Heineken! Maybe you should take your inner struggle with wanting to try a Gauloise cigarette public! DAY 24: deep introspection about youth hostels and Canadians! Then again, why don’t you listen to your roommate’s cassette of Nirvana Unplugged again and burn that poem about Bertolt Brecht while you’re at it?
9. THE NOT-SO-MEG-RYAN
Dear 21-Year-Old-Tarja: You know what you should do? As someone who just gained a shit-load of weight in Europe? You should cut your hair short! Super short! And tousle like there’s no tomorrow! You’re in New York City, Mary Tyler Moore, throw that hat in the air! And then have your friend take some head shots – because you’re going places (other than Gristedes grocery store and that frozen yogurt place). In fact, that head shot would be the perfect banner for your blog. Oh. Sweet Jesus. Take it down take it down take it down. Who knew that “pixie” was also short for “troll?”
8. PIERCE SANS BROSNAN
Dear 22-Year-Old-Tarja: Urban people pierce themselves. They just do and you should too. You’ve started writing about your life, your hopes, your dreams, your fears about the salad bar on the corner and why it’s so cheap, but a piercing would really quantify shit, you know? Take it to the next level – the level where you buy Bacitracin at Duane Reade. So you find this guy on St. Mark’s Place and you’re thinking, this is it, a fake diamond in my nostril gains me entrance to – and acceptance at – that Coney Island Mermaid Parade! New blog post: I turned the piercing 20 times to the left and 20 times to the right to ensure lack of infection! Do any readers know when I can put a new stud in?
7. WHEN I’M NOT AT THE NIGHTCLUB
Dear 23-Year-Old-Tarja: Wow, you got 9 hours of sleep last night. Huh. No plans tonight? Cereal for dinner. Hmm. True, I believe it was Charlotte Bronte who said, “If you have too much time on your hands, blog.” This could TOTALLY replace that depressing journal you threw out. I mean, genius has to start somewhere and why not here? Now? In this apartment in Astoria with the bat-crazy roommate next door swigging vodka? Remember Harriet the Spy and her little lined notebooks? BE Harriet the Spy! Without the spying. Or the tomato sandwiches. Screw it. Just have another bowl of cereal.
6. THEATER. OR IS IT THEATRE?
Dear 22-Year-Old-Tarja: Theater could be the ticket. I mean, look at you, stage-managing a play that’s practically on Broadway if it weren’t in the Hudson River. And doing the lighting too! If push comes to shove, you can also choreograph a hell of a comedic dance number – which your family members and friends tell you is a gift, although you can’t quite grasp why no one wanted your help at your company’s end-of-year team-building picnic. Art is art. You should connect online with like-minded people, blog about “Chorus Line,” about Rita Hayworth and real musicals. Hell, be a playwright. A blogwright! Your life…the play. And scene. No, sorry. Jazz hands…and scene. Yes.
5. BLOG, DATING SITE, SAME THING
Dear Early-To-Mid-Twenties-Tarja: So, so, so very desperate. Or what’s that word you use, hopeful? The internet will help you find the way! Paint a picture with your words (avoid the Not-So-Meg-Ryans). Connect with others who paint pictures with their words! Wait. You totally want to see a picture, not words. You are NOT meeting up in a coffee shop with words. Especially words with nostril hair.
4. THE FAVORITE
Dear Mid-To-Late-Twenties-Tarja: Had you been blogging at this time, your site would have resembled a dingy Off-Track-Betting place in Hell’s Kitchen as to when your now-husband would propose. Admit it. True, he was always the favorite to win but GODDAMN that track was long and dusty. New post: trip to Ireland! New post: manicure in vain!
3. DID YOU FUCKING MESS WITH MY SEATING ARRANGEMENT?
Dear 28-1/2-Year-Old-Tarja: You should have totally blogged for 547 days about planning your wedding. It would have been amaaaaazing. At least 10 posts on the color turquoise – which, as it turns out, does not just go with bolo ties and belt buckles.
I have a feeling that mainly, had I been blogging in my 20′s, I would have stared deeply into your eyes – or your comments – and started singing, “Hello? Is it me you’re looking for? Let me tell you about this book I just read and this great restaurant I went to, do you like the ballet, what shampoo do you use, where can I get cheaper airline tickets? Hello? Hello?” It wouldn’t have been pretty.
1. UN -
The absolute top reason you should be glad I didn’t blog in my 20′s is that is would have been unfunny. Let me spell it out for you: I wanted to be a lounge singer. There. I said it. Oh, there would have been moments. Like if I posted that picture of me and my brother on that cruise ship with our Meg Ryan hair. The blog would have probably been called “TJ’s Diner.” I would have had the Friday Scramble where I talk about the latest “E.R.” episode. And then on Sundays, we’d talk about Elaine Showalter and feminism. I KNOW.
You absolutely must, visit these other funny ladies for their take on not blogging in their 20′s – GO!
10. Ann’s Rants
11. Wendi Aarons
12. Midlife Mixtape