Welcome, to the very first blog post I have ever written. Well, perhaps I should amend that. I had a "livejournal" in college. On this public forum, I posted the intimate details of every illegal act I committed (from which lawn ornaments my friends and I stole to the ounce measurements of the beers we were chugging in bars at the tender age of 19). Of course, that ended badly when it was discovered by my mother. I don't like to think of that as a "blog" anyway, since it was more like an annoying, whiny diary that everyone in cyberspace could read. Not that I think many did, because it was annoying. And whiny.
Mainly, I am writing a blog because my mother has a blog. While I don't have any delusions of being half the writer (or person) that she is, I like to think that it's possible the creative genes have been passed down in a diluted state and that I might possess some fraction of her abilities. I guess that makes judges out of anyone who reads this. Daunting.
I suppose I should take a moment to address the title of this blog. In the event that I actually end up with any readers who do not already know me personally, here is a brief synopsis: I am 25, have a four-year degree in history from a liberal arts school, and I work as a groundskeeper full-time for a large, multi-location facility for developmentally disabled children and adults. I supplement my income by bartending part time, but that's a story for many, many subsequent posts.
A quick story about an event that drove me towards blog-creation:
At my place of work (called "Springbrook), the staff have the opportunity to collect boxes of goods from the local food bank. The food bank provides Springbrook with items ranging from dented cans and boxes of food to returned items, such as housewares and kitchen gadgets with damaged or no packaging. Whatever the homes and the school cannot use is sent to the staff break room, where anyone who works at Springbrook is welcome to paw through it and look for treasure.
Yesterday was a food bank delivery day. I happened to walk into the break room, so I looked around. I collected an ice cream scoop, a veggie peeler, a couple boxes of macaroni and cheese and one insulated beer "koozie" that looks like a referee's jersey. One table contained several Brita water pitchers and PUR water faucet filtration systems. These things are not cheap. Since I have recently moved back into town, I have been drinking chlorinated city water for six weeks. I investigated the table, but couldn't figure out what might be wrong with any of the items. So, I gestured and asked a member of the education staff who had been placing things on tables, "what's up with all of these?"
His response: "Oh, they're water purifiers. You know, like to filter your tap water. You can either run it through the pitcher or you can use one of the other ones that hooks on your faucet to filter it right there."
I almost slapped him. Now, it should be noted that I strolled in around 2:30 pm, half an hour before quitting time and wearing my work clothes, which on this day happened to be a full Carhartt outfit and winter boots, all soaking wet and covered in grease and road salt. None of this matters, as this particular staff member already knows I work in the maintenance department.
I nearly opened my big mouth and informed him that I happen to be literate, could read the boxes that clearly described the items (with pictures!) and that, furthermore, I possess a 4-year liberal arts degree and choose to work maintenance because I enjoy it, not because I am unqualified for anything else. I also considered noting that I happen to know that HIS job requires nothing more than a G.E.D. Of course, I said none of this because I realized less than 5 seconds later that it would have been a tad of an overreaction.
And so, a blog is born. A blog about the interesting (I hope) happenings in the life of an educated 20-something who is willfully choosing not to use her very expensive degree. I guess I could have entitled it "My Unexpected Life", but maybe that will have to wait to be the title of the book.