This week mark's the fourth anniversary of my exploits in fashion blogging. In February 2010, I put up my very first adorable posts [here], and have been posting on and off and changing the blog's name, domain, and layout in a noncommittal fashion ever since.
I think of the things I have accomplished in the past four years, fashion related and not, and of how much life has changed. Things that came easily have gone just as easily, and trends I used to love have become terrible fashion faux-pas. Friendships, jobs, accolades, and arguments have been won and lost. Things that used to hold great value seem not to matter as much anymore, while other priorities have taken their places. I have travelled to new places, and travelled to old places and seen them in a new way. I have taken chances on new things, and given second chances to other things with outcomes either disappointing or surprising.
Nothing has turned out as I expected. I constantly recall all of the idiotic things I have done-- the out-of-character things, the character-less things, the acting-like-a-character things. I get a little sad, a lot sad, more sad, until I remember to tell myself that those 'things' are what have made me who I am. I learned from my mistakes and healed my hurting insides, or at least picked them up and threw them in a bucket and dragged it on along. Those 'things', those mistakes, made me stronger. Made me forgive.
Thinking back on all of the dumb vapid things I've posted here, I often wonder if I should continue. If anyone finds this interesting? If I even find it interesting?
I didn't plan to write all of this today, but as my fingers started clicking the little letters on the keyboard, the letters became words became sentences became a melancholy little birthday wish to myself. But a birthday means a new year and a new year means resolutions. Not only do I hope to share more on this blog, but I hope to share more of myself. I am not perfect, but I am real. I may not have all of the pieces together, but I need to prove at least to myself that I am whole. Of all of the paintings, and sewing projects, and paper mache animal heads I have given up on because of pin-pricked fingers and hot glue burns, or because it was just too hard, I am one undertaking that although will never be completed, will also never be given up.
Just like the projects I have yet to share on this blog-- I am a work in progress.