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And Just Like That...I am Starting Another Blog!

Somehow, the chick-flicky, turn-your-brain-off, time-wasting, relaxing TV show I love to binge, Sex and the City, has become one of my greater inspirations or motivators to do what I love: write. Perhaps not quite in the way that you might imagine but seeing SJP/Carrie Bradshaw tap-tapping away on her brick of a laptop makes me want to tap away at my keyboard; cross-legged on a couch, the floor, at my bedroom window, or even my desk – purposefully placed for such activity.

I’m not big on on-screen entertainment. I don’t like TV, I’m not very into movies, and I try to keep my Netflix time to a minimum. I’m a sucker for YouTube all the same. The thing is, I don’t like the time-wasting of flicking through TV, ending up watching something shite cuz there’s nothing else, and sitting through the same ads every 15 minutes. It makes my skin crawl and I wish I was doing something else, always.

That being said, I have somehow fallen in love with a couple of shows: Sex and the City, Friends, the movie When Harry Met Sally, and The Devil Wears Prada. Common theme? New York City baby.

I am sure that these have been incredibly influential in my previously huge desire to live in NYC someday, ever since I was a teen. It didn’t stop there. YouTube allowed this infatuation to bleed into a love of Casey Neistat’s content, and now, a fondness for Victoria Paris. There’s no doubt that the TV and movie productions romanticized the city and a life that is so unobtainable, and it does not fall short with social media. I know this is the case, so why do I still fall into this infatuation?

Truth is, as much as I might have in the past, I do not naively look upon these “New York City moments” and believe them to be a mirror upon the life of a New Yorker, or anyone who decides to land their life there. I used to do what so many people do every day as they scroll through their phones: I would make myself feel bad about my lot. I used to tear myself down in the face of these polished entertainment pieces.

Now I sit at my poorly painted dining table in my late Nan’s fleece and my leopard print slippers, in the house I rent in Kildare, and I’m tap-tapping like Carrie Bradshaw. I’ve curated a life that allows me the freedom to write and it’s just a matter of doing it. My life may not look like a New York sitcom, but I have to stop waiting for the right time or the dreamy circumstance to fall at my feet.

I am a victim of the social media borne expectation of instant gratification and information at my fingertips, so much so that I get frustrated at not having what I want without doing anything to get it. I feel part of a generation that is somewhat allergic to action. Well, here I start. As Carrie Bradshaw as it may seem, I hope to share some thoughts, projects, ideas, musings, articles, research, and more. And I’m not going to think so damn much about it.

Welcome to the blog. 

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