If you’re reading this, there’s a fat chance you’ve been tagging along for the last year or so of blogs. I can hardly believe I’ve been at this for a year. Time really does fly. I’m realizing that happens whether you’re having fun or not. Thankfully, and I hope it comes across in the writing, this has continued to be great fun! 

Whether it be your first time visiting or you’re a friendly face, welcome! One year later, and I’m still so happy you’re here. Usually I write these blogs to order. But this time, I’m going to share some thoughts that came to me in a flurry the night before my (our?) birthday earlier this month. That’s right. Me and my blog share a birthday.

I knew I wanted to reflect on this milestone for July, and waited for words to come. The waiting is the hardest part. Sometimes inspiration strikes when you least expect it. Like immediately after painting your toenails, forcing you to waddle through the house to the nearest notebook and pen. If you’ve got an attention span as nonexistent as mine, you’ve got to write that shit down IMMEDIATELY or else it’s gone with the wind. Now that you’ve got a glimpse at my creative process, without further ado, I present my July thoughts 🙂 

It’s the eve of my birthday, historically (you guessed it) one of my favorite days. I’ve previously written about my love for the “before.” I adore anticipation. I remember how magical July 2nd always felt as a kid. Almost more exciting than the birthday itself. The fumes of a Funfetti cake in the oven. Mom always let me lick the spoon, and it was so much more than a birthday cake. A few scattered presents wrapped in the brightest colors, usually from my big brother Billy. He gives the best birthday gifts. My favorite being the legendary Glo-E light up teddy bear circa 2005. I still have it. She still shines bright, the diva that she is.

I never had to be nervous about a party the next day, either. One of the perks of being an introvert with a birthday neighboring a federal holiday is that  everyone’s out of town for the 4th anyways. Even still, my family always made these handful of days so special. Barefoot in the backyard, we’d watch fireworks into the night. My parents said they were just for me. 

This year I’m about to be 29, and still feel little sparkles as I wait for July 3rd. I promise I’m not a raging narcissist—I genuinely get this excited for everyone’s birthday. They really are so special. Of all the days in the whole year, the whole world, the whole universe. Everything came together perfectly, and there you were. What do you mean we each have our very own day!? Incredible. Why wouldn’t you go all out to celebrate the miracle that you came to exist. Ugh. 

This year, on top of all that other miraculous shit, I get to add the silent but overpowering sense of accomplishment I feel for sticking with this project. I managed to keep my little dream alive for a whole year. Accomplishment might not be the right word. I am feeling fulfilled. 

For most of my life, I’ve had an overwhelming desire to create. That looks different depending on the season I’m in. Sometimes it’s working on a painting so long I forget to eat. Strumming my guitar for so many songs that my fingers bleed. (I refuse to use a pick; I’m clumsy and drop it.) Waking up before dawn to bake a cake, or staying up til 2am to tinker with the gallery wall in my home studio. These things come and go. My only continuous creation has ever happened in a notebook.

I’ve dreamed of being a writer for years and years. For some reason, I thought  that dream was over when I moved away from New York City. It’s funny, the arbitrary limitations we put on ourselves. In college, they encouraged us to make an “elevator pitch” to sell ourselves to potential employers. I would just say I wanted to spread joy. I usually left it at that, but always hoped it would be through my writing. 

I have always found comfort in sharing ideas and thoughts and sentiments with people around me. To me, there’s no other way to be than vulnerable. Life’s too short, and it’s a lot more fun to just put your whole self out there. Creating this cozy corner of the internet has helped me fulfill my dream of spreading joy, but also of cultivating a safe space to celebrate the magic of being alive. It sounds so utterly cheesy. But life really is magical!! And I love cheese.

The wildest part of this all, which I did not expect, is that you guys showed up to read it. If you’ve made it this far, a whole year later, I truly cannot thank you enough. The support. The sweet messages. The encouragement along the way. It’s all been a huge part of the process, and I take none of it for granted. I had a hunch, but I guess people really do want to engage with delightful content on the internet.

It hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, of course. Nothing ever is. Trying to balance an online presence while also being a chronically offline girlie is quite the conundrum. Many months I wanted to quit entirely. But thankfully, I’m a real people-pleaser. So every time my mom called to ask, “When is your blog coming out??” you bet your ass I went straight to my desk. Sometimes I waited for words, but every time I found something to write about. Thanks, mom.

It’s brave and it’s worth it to show up for yourself. Even if that means speed blogging on the last day of the month to meet your self-inflicted deadline. I never regretted following through instead of giving up. There’s probably science to back this up, but I think challenging yourself might actually be…good for you. 

It is also brave to take a break. Pausing. Living. Reflecting. Simply being. Those are just as important to the creative process. I’d even say there’s no creating without all that other stuff. You can’t force it. But you have to be open when it arrives. I think that applies to a lot more in life, too. 

Well. Now that I’ve gotten all that off my big mushy heart…I suppose it’s time to turn over a new leaf. Now that we’ve properly celebrated the beginning, it’s time to start the next year of Laugh a Little. I cannot promise what’s to come, for I am making it up as I go. If you come along for the ride, though, I’m sure we can figure it out together.