happy birthday, blog (making me happy)

Today my blog turns one year old. And never have I felt so schizophrenic. In the beginning, I wrote about my goings-on: for my friends and family ... and myself. My only blogging pals at the time were Brad and James and Dede, and I think Robby, too. I remember calling Dede to find out how to properly post a photo.

Not too long after, many friends and family members followed blogging suit. Hallelujah! Seeing (reading) them on-screen is sometimes as good as seeing them in person. Other times, it is entirely different from face-to-face interaction, but in a good way: writing is, to me, a very personal form of communication. Even your punctuation can give you away---not that you don't know how to properly use a semicolon, but that you might have a second voice that constantly interjects your thoughts and gives way to the use of superfluous parentheses. (Like me.)

Last summer, I updated my blog from time to time (you might notice that August 2006 is non-existent in Ali Loves' history). Then I started updating a lot. Then I mellowed out. I don't always feel like I represent myself adequately; my real personality--sometimes my very character--gets lost in posts about cheap-but-cute T-shirts and shoes I can't afford. I am not a Martha Stewart. I am not a stylist. I am not a photographer. And my life (not to mention my wardrobe) is not as pretty as my blog might make one think.

Though I have a little knack and love for these types of things, I think my best posts are my early ones. The ones where I really wrote. The ones where I wasn't afraid of being a little strange, or at least a little honest. But I make friends more readily with itty bitty design-y shopping posts. (And I really like to make friends. There's that honesty again.) And there's no denying that design-y shopping things are part of my biological makeup. The most popular posts are the ones wherein I decided to let my guard down. (Thank you, BlogTonia).

So, who is this Ali that loves Curtis? She's just a girl who loves to record things. She likes to write and shop and hangout and photograph. And write some more.

Sometimes she feels like a fashion editor.
Sometimes she feels like an essayist.
Sometimes she journals.
Sometimes she still wants to be a little girl.
Sometimes she wants to be a photographer.
Sometimes she feels like a bad real-life friend.
Sometimes she feels like she needs cooking lessons, or maybe just a maid.
Sometimes she feels like a pretty good spouse, when she's not blogging.
She always loves the west.
She loves to share information.
She has a slight shopping problem.
She is funny sometimes, but it's usually by accident.

Despite the identity crisis that makes her who she is (and makes her talk in the third person, apparently), most of the time, she feels lucky to have stayed in contact, come back into contact or created contact with so many fellow bloggers. Sometimes she feels foolish for liking to blog so much, but hey, there are worse addictions. And worse ways to make new friends.

Again and again, thank you for blogging.

{And happy birthday to Lacey Jane, one of my most favorite people in this entire world, too. As I wrote in a comment on her blog the other day, she is both young and old: playful and wise, talker and listener, goofy and sophisticated. I love the little juxtapositions that coexist within Lacey Jane, and make her an always-interesting and reliable individual. My blog couldn't be more honored to share this special day with her ... (and that includes her lovely twin sister, too). Go tell her happy happy!}