Red is supposed to be a bold, strong, confident colour. And why wouldn’t I want to exude those qualities? I bought this red sweater at Sears last year, before it closed down. A friend of mine had mentioned how stuff was on sale and how she bought clothes from the Jessica line so I decided to follow suit. The sweater with the roses was from the same kiosk in Metrotown where I bought my shiny scarves. I’m actually wearing matching red rose rain boots that I got from The Bay, but sadly they are not pictured here, as I do not have access to a full length mirror. I believe it was sunny that day, because of course it would be on a day when I wear rain boots. I think the black dress was actually from La Vie En Rose. Despite being a lingerie store, they surprisingly have a lot of clothing items that are perfectly acceptable for everyday wear. No one would know the difference. I just realized that I’m wearing a ROSE scarf with a dress from La Vie En ROSE. What a coincidence.
I just can’t seem to keep up with it. I have so many drafts of blog posts I’ve written but never quite finished or never published. I found a draft of a post I wrote about a concert I went to two years ago. What am I supposed to do with that now? Post it? Delete it? Write a new post critiquing the old post? I don’t even know.
My problem is I’ll start writing something or think about writing something, but by the time I actually get around to posting it, it’s no longer relevant. Or even less relevant than it was to begin with. Especially when I write about something in the news or some event. If it’s been over a month since it happened, should I even bother anymore?
Maybe I’ll post them anyway. Since they’re there. My timing is horrible. I’ll go weeks with nothing, and then post five things in two days. But better late than never, right?
Today, being April Fool’s Day, life decided to play a cruel joke on me. So yesterday when I got home from work, I made chicken, not because I wanted it for dinner, but because I wanted it for my lunch for today. Before I went to bed, I packed my lunch, a large container of rice, chicken, vegetables, and avocado. I was looking forward to it. Needless to say, I did not get to have it for lunch today. Did I forget it at home? No, that would be too easy. Where is my lunch now? Sitting on a bus somewhere. I left it on the damn bus.
What’s particularly annoying is that I realized I’d forgotten it as soon as I got off, but by then it was too late. I watched the bus drive away, debating whether or not I should run after it. I work at a university, UBC to be specific. There’s a lot of construction, currently, and always, which makes it difficult to get around. At times, it can be like a massive obstacle course just getting from building to building. This being the case, I got off the bus at the stop before the bus loop, to save myself the time and effort of maneuvering around the construction in that area. Upon realizing what I left behind, I made my way to the bus loop, figuring that maybe, just maybe, I could flag down the bus before it left. Unfortunately for me, it took longer than I’d hoped, by the time I crossed the street twice and made my way over.
Once there, I had no idea which bus was the bus I had been on, or if it was even still there. I saw a #43 bus, but it wasn’t the same #43 bus that I had been on. The loop is massive and buses are randomly parked and pulling up every which way. Some also change their number to NIS when they are parked, since they are not in service at the time. I tried to remember what the driver looked like, and I think I may have found the right bus. Sadly, I found it as it was driving away, out of the bus loop, and out of my life. Forever.
I called Translink but they have no direct contact with the drivers. I must have sounded so sad and pathetic reporting a lost lunch bag. But this wasn’t just any old lunch bag. In fact you would even know it was a lunch bag just by looking at it. It was one of those insulated ones that looks like a purse. When I would carry it around, it simply looked like it was a small purse. Not to mention the fork and the Tupperware container inside it. And the food. My food, damnit! I spent all day thinking about the great meal I could have had but didn’t. It doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. But imagine if I had lost a twenty dollar bill on the bus instead. When you add up the cost of the bag and the food and everything, it’s basically the same thing. I also take care to prepare my lunch every day because I have some dietary restrictions which can make it difficult to find something suitable when eating out. I ended up having to buy a sad looking bagel sandwich, which was very unsatisfying.
So yeah. First world problem at its finest. But why, you ask, should I take this as a sign that I shouldn’t start blogging again? Well, when I was getting off the bus, I was in the midst of publishing my previous blog post this morning. And that distraction is what caused me to be so neglectful as to forget my damn lunch purse on the ground beside my seat. For some reason, the WordPress app kept on logging me out of my account, as I tried desperately to save and publish my post. I managed to do so, but at what cost?
I suppose it could have also happened in order to give my something random and unnewsworthy to blog about right now. But it’s not as if I’m going to run out of material anytime soon.
Blogger friends, do you know if it’s possible to create a new blog but transfer posts from my old blog to the new one? Or to change my blogging name & website? Or any advice you would give me if I’m thinking of starting over? Thanks!
It’s been a while. I think I maybe wrote two blog posts last year. If you can call them blog posts when they’re that short. I would like to start over. Most people try starting over in various aspects of their lives on January 1st, the start of a new year. But I’m not most people. I wasn’t ready in February either, nor March. But what better time to start over than on April Fool’s Day? Since I often feel as though my life is one big joke, I thought it seemed fitting. And if you know me at all, you know that I’m a very honest person, so my wanting to blog again is no joke. There are many aspects of my life in which I would like to start over and figure things out.
I really feel like I need a new title. Random and unnewsworthy was sort of an inside joke type thing that I just randomly came up with after talking to a friend. It’s like that Grade 8 email address you made when you got your first hotmail account and you’re kind of ashamed of it now because what the hell were you thinking with a name that dumb? And you’ve since, I would hope, created a far more professional email address which now includes your name. I remember I originally just wanted to use my name for my blog title. Because why not? And my friend convinced me not to. But is that bad an idea?
So again, any advice you could give me would be so appreciated! I miss this and since I finally updated my iPhone to iOS 8, I may be able to blog with more ease. But I don’t want to just sporadically leave random posts on this blog. This blog is old news. Or old unnews, I guess. I need to figure out something new.
That’s really sad, isn’t it?
So I’ve decided to sporadically write my posts about Vegas whenever I feel like it, in between posts about various other things. At this rate, I’ll still be writing them in the winter. But whatever. That works for me. Bloggers in Sin City was just full of so much stuff that I feel like I need to write like ten posts about it at least.
When I arrived at the McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas in May, I was supposed to meet up with Jessica, a fellow blogger who I had never met, because our flights arrived ten minutes apart. So it made sense that we could just meet up, and make our way to the Flamingo together. Simple, right? Or so we thought.
I picked up my luggage at baggage claim 26. Jessica was at baggage claim 10. This is where the confusion began, because wherever Jessica was, the numbers only went up to 16. How was this possible? I was clearly at baggage claim 26. Had I entered some magical world like how Harry Potter goes to platform 1 and 3/4? I didn’t recall having ran through any walls or anything, so that couldn’t be it.
And that’s when we realized that we were at different terminals. Curse the Las Vegas airport for being so damn big. So we brilliantly decided to take the interterminal shuttles to meet each other. So we both went to the shuttles and got on them. At the same time. Going in opposite directions. It was too late to turn back. So I believe Jessica simply stayed on her shuttle and took a round trip to meet me back at terminal 1. Or was it 3? I don’t even know anymore. And yes, this was all as confusing as it sounds, possibly more so.
We wandered a bit and eventually had to go ask someone where the hell the hotel shuttles were. Upon finding them, we patiently waited until it came time to board. And then patiently waited while it drove oh so very slowly around the strip, proceeding to drop off every other passenger but us. Not only were we the last to get to our hotel, the driver even stopped to pick up people to take back to the airport before finally dropping us off at The Flamingo. Actually, she dropped us off a block away from the Flamingo because of “construction” or whatever. We hoped that this experience would not be indicative of the rest of our time in Vegas. It was unfortunate that our shuttle ride took so long, but if I was going to have to spend a ridiculous amount of time getting from the airport to the hotel, I’m sure as hell glad that time spent was with Jessica because she made it awesome.
You know how when a person is depressed, they feel lack of motivation and the things that they once enjoyed no longer interest them? I’ve kind of been feeling that way about blogging. It used to be easier. It used to be so effortless. Now sometimes it just seems like a chore. A chore that isn’t even necessary really. And so I keep putting it off. And no one knows when it will ever get done.
I don’t know why I feel this way. It’s not what I want. I do want to gain back that joy that writing once brought me. I want that excitement I once felt just thinking about it and looking forward to being able to write. Now and then it does cross my mind, but then I come up with excuses as to why I can’t do it or I don’t have time. And if I do happen to have a free moment, I fill it with other things. I’m always out doing something. And when I do have that rare time at home, I give up and concede that my time would be better spent watching TV. When the hell has anyone’s time ever been better spent watching TV?
So productivity as far as blogging goes is now at an all time low. I’m not really sure how to get it back up to a reasonable pace. And I’m not really even sure what a reasonable pace would be. But definitely more often and more consistently than I have been lately. Setting a schedule doesn’t really work for me. Randomness is how I function best. Although randomness hasn’t been working for me either as of late. You know how you tell a lazy person to get up off their ass and go do something? Would it be the opposite for me? Like I need to sit my ass back down and stop whatever I’m doing and start writing again?
When a person is depressed, they begin to wonder whether they even matter to anyone and what the point of their life is. Similarly, I wonder whether this blog even matters to anyone and what the point of it is. Is there a point? Although I’ve never actually cared about it having a point. And I have had a few people ask if I’m still blogging or say that they enjoyed some of my previous entries. But is that enough to motivate me to continue? It should be. But I’m not sure if it is.
Is it ironic that after I went to a blogging conference, I kind of stopped blogging? Not as a result of it, but coincidentally I suppose. I always blame time. I have no time. I was recently talking to a friend about how I didn’t understand how she had time for everything she does. And she told me that she doesn’t, she just forces herself to do things. Which I totally understand. I used to be like that. I still am, in many aspects, just not with blogging anymore. A lot of people would tell me that they didn’t understand how I had the energy to work full time, take classes, volunteer, blog, and still go out as much as I do. And the truth is I really don’t have the energy. I’m tired all the time. But I force myself to still do all the things I want to do. When something is important to you, you make the time for it. Right now I’m just wondering how important blogging really is to me.
If you’re a blogger or a writer, I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from. And it’s not even writer’s block. Or blogger’s block, or whatever you want to call it. Because I have ideas. I haven’t even written properly about Vegas yet. And you know how important Vegas is to me. Time remains a key problem for me. And the lack of motivation stems from me doubting my abilities as a writer. I feel like I used to be better than this too. I am better than this. So why won’t it show in my writing any longer? I know everyone has self doubt at some point, no matter how good they are.
I think I’m going to try and find the time for this. Try, being to key word. Wish me luck. Or don’t. Are people actually more likely to accomplish something if someone tells them “Good luck”? Does that really ever change anything or make a difference at all? Also this is very small life goal. Of course I could be putting my time and my efforts into bigger and better things than trying to start writing again. But whatever, I can choose to focus on this for a moment if I want to.
Well, it would appear that I have now written a blog post. Kind of wordy one. And possibly whiny. Is it whiny? I can’t actually tell. I’m hoping it’s not because I hate it when people are whiny. Does this fact that I just wrote a blog post mean that maybe I’m taking a step towards coming out of my blogging depression? Only time will tell.
Last year, I came across a post on Laura’s blog Red Lips and Academics. I had never met Laura, but I enjoyed reading her blog. In this particular post, she had mentioned going to Vegas for a blogging conference. I thought that sounded pretty cool, so I decided to look into it further. And then I forgot about it. And then months went by and I saw stuff about it again popping up on my Twitter feed. And I began to debate as to whether or not I should sign up.
The event was called Bloggers in Sin City. Essentially, 68 strangers meet up in Vegas for three days. Did I want to be one of them? I did. I really did. But then I thought about my finances and whether or not it was for me. I’ve never been the type of person to be all social and join things. I hate being forced to bond with people. Whenever it happens, I always tend to rebel. But this would be different. No one was forcing me to go. If I decided to go, it would be my own decision. I looked through the registration page to see who the attendees were. And they all seemed pretty cool. They blogged, they loved social media, they seemed to share my sense of humour, and they just all sounded like really nice people. Why would I not go? I love Vegas, so why not?
And so I registered. Well, I tried to register. And somehow failed. So I emailed Nicole, who’s been organizing the event for five years, and we figured out my payment method and it was done. I wrote up my bio, looked through the itinerary, and then spent several months in eager anticipation. And then freaked out trying to figure out my flight and all those fun details. This was my first time trip traveling alone. As an adult, anyway. When I was like 11 or something, I went to visit my aunt and uncle in Halifax, and I had to wear a sign around my neck that said “unaccompanied minor” so that people would help me out. But this time, I was going it alone.
It was a mix of excitement and confusion when I told people that I was going. Some people would be like “Wow, that’s so brave of you to go to this on your own.” and others would be like “Wait, you don’t know anyone there? Why are you going?” I don’t really expect most people to understand. And that’s okay. It’s not like I went because I’m so Vegas obsessed and couldn’t find anyone to go with me. There are people I could have gone with. But this was more than just a Vegas trip. It was an experience and I got to meet a bunch of cool people who I wouldn’t otherwise know existed. And I’m really glad I did.
I spent five nights in Vegas on this trip. Which seems like a lot. For Vegas. I mean I suppose there’s only so much day drinking, overeating, and partying that a person can take. But the time just went by and I enjoyed every minute of it. It was filled with all sorts of epic things that I will never forget. We spent the first day drinking at the Flamingo and meeting people as they arrived. The next day, we got VIP bags and lanyards and played an awesome game of Cards Against Humanity. We had a welcome mixer at Serendipity 3, complete with food, drinks, 8 second hugs, and the most intense staring contest I have ever participated in. We drank and danced at Margaritaville to a band playing 80’s music. One of the best Thursday nights I’ve had.
On Friday, we had a pool party at the Flamingo. I don’t even know how to describe it other than it was awesome. For dinner, we went to the Spice Market Buffet at Planet Hollywood, where there was so much food I could hardly contain myself. Then we went to see “O” by Cirque du Soleil, which had a lot of crazy diving stunts by amazingly talented performers. After that, some of us went out and danced at a shitty club but at least it was a shitty club in Vegas.
On Saturday, we had a breakfast buffet at the Flamingo, and then I went to Minus 5 Ice Bar at the Monte Carlo. We had another buffet that night at Paris and the night ended with a rooftop party on top of Pure nightclub. Actually the night didn’t end there, it ended after following that up with clubbing at Act at the Venetian, and then getting lost trying to find our way out of the Venetian.
On Sunday, we had our fourth and final buffet and started saying our goodbyes. There were strong bonds and friendships made that weekend and no one wanted it to end. I went to In-N-Out Burger for the first time. I had a cheese plate at Otto at the Venetian. That day was filled with a lot of food and a lot of feelings.
I’m really glad I went and that I got to meet so many great people. This was the fifth and final year of the event, which I’m really sad about. I should have found out about it sooner. But some of us were talking about how there’s no reason we can’t just all end up in Vegas together at the same time next year, even if it’s not officially for Bloggers in Sin City. I will post more later about specific things that happened in Vegas. Because I can. Because I want to relive them. Because what happens in Vegas ends up getting blogged about. And now I’m sitting here in my post-Vegas depression. I’m not sure how long it will last but I’m beginning to think that the only cure is to go back to Vegas.
Tragic, I know.