Well, today's the big day. The one-year anniversary of a girl and her blog. Sadly, this is the most significant anniversary I have in my life right now (probably has something to do with how much time I spend on the internet), but let's put that aside for now. I actually can't think of what I should put here. Just three months ago on my birthday I summarized most of the important events of the last year, so that option is gone.
I guess what interests me most is how I've evolved since I started this thing. When I first dove in, starting a blog for the internet to see, it was basically a rejection of what I'd been telling myself my whole life. You aren't good enough. You aren't creative enough. Just stick to your science and stay in your place. For all I knew, it was true, but I'd never know if I didn't try. I was twenty years old and tired of feeling like my fate was already fixed. It's like the Nightmare Before Christmas. In the actual movie, *SPOILERS*, Jack Skellington, tired of being the Pumpkin King of Halloween, tries to take charge of running Christmas that year. He fails spectacularly, and the movie ends with him realizing that he's happy as he is. But, if you listen to the last track that wasn't actually in the movie, where the narrator talks about visiting Jack many years after the story ended:
That really important lesson - the value of trying something new, no matter what the outcome is - stuck with me ever since I saw that movie as a senior in high school. So two years later it took the form of deeds and actions, the result of which is Methyl Ethyl Aldehyde, a name I picked practically as a placeholder, because if I let myself get stuck on a title, I would never start the project at all. And that was unacceptable.
So I wrote. And eventually, I drew, at least so much as you can call dragging a mouse around the screen in MS Paint "drawing". And not-so deep down lurked a hope that someone would see something I wrote and then pass it around the internet and I would become famous and crowds of people would lift me high above the streets shouting, "Julia! You are creative! Your wit and insight are just what the world needed! Osama bin Laden was so moved, he gave up terrorism and started planting flowers!"
Okay, I didn't really think that, but I did hope for some recognition that I was more than just some girl who was good at science. And I got it, not on a large scale, but from you readers, my friends. All of you were really brilliant about saying nice things about my crazy drawings and my weird little stories. You told me that you laughed and I felt like I had done something right. So I moved up to a bigger ambition. I started making videos.
My first video was a lot like my blog title - something I threw together in a few minutes just to make sure I didn't get hung up on making everything perfect. And it was pretty bad. But I kept trying and trying, and eventually, people took notice. I still don't have a ton of subscribers; hell, Charlie McDonnell could make a video of himself sneezing and pick up more followers than I have in 3 seconds. That's okay, because "making it on the internet" isn't really something I think about much any more. I think about making videos because I like it, posting blogs when I see religious symbolism in a mediocre movie, and engaging with the community I've found. I think about pushing the envelope of my creativity in whatever way I feel like that day - provided that I don't have homework. And from the few people who read and watch what I do, I see that enough people like what I do that I must be doing something right.
So now here I am. I am a person who has learned how to take risks. I write blogs, I make videos, and I walk through the Red Light district in Amsterdam at 9:30 PM by myself because it's a necessary cultural experience (well, not the "by myself" bit, but that's what happens when you travel alone). I've learned that perfection is something to strive for, not something to start at, and that sometimes getting something started means jumping in the water and flailing until you eventually learn how to swim.
To those of you who stuck with me during the first year of this project, thank you. It's been fun to have you along. And to those of you who have told me you look forward to saying "I knew her when", well, it might be a while. And that's okay. :)
I guess what interests me most is how I've evolved since I started this thing. When I first dove in, starting a blog for the internet to see, it was basically a rejection of what I'd been telling myself my whole life. You aren't good enough. You aren't creative enough. Just stick to your science and stay in your place. For all I knew, it was true, but I'd never know if I didn't try. I was twenty years old and tired of feeling like my fate was already fixed. It's like the Nightmare Before Christmas. In the actual movie, *SPOILERS*, Jack Skellington, tired of being the Pumpkin King of Halloween, tries to take charge of running Christmas that year. He fails spectacularly, and the movie ends with him realizing that he's happy as he is. But, if you listen to the last track that wasn't actually in the movie, where the narrator talks about visiting Jack many years after the story ended:
And I asked old Jack, "Do you remember the night
When the sky was so dark and the moon shone so bright?
When a million small children pretending to sleep
Nearly didn't have Christmas at all, so to speak?
And would, if you could, turn that mighty clock back,
To that long, fateful night. Now, think carefully, Jack.
Would you do the whole thing all over again,
Knowing what you know now, knowing what you knew then?"
And he smiled, like the old pumpkin king that I knew,
Then turned and asked softly of me, "Wouldn't you?"
When the sky was so dark and the moon shone so bright?
When a million small children pretending to sleep
Nearly didn't have Christmas at all, so to speak?
And would, if you could, turn that mighty clock back,
To that long, fateful night. Now, think carefully, Jack.
Would you do the whole thing all over again,
Knowing what you know now, knowing what you knew then?"
And he smiled, like the old pumpkin king that I knew,
Then turned and asked softly of me, "Wouldn't you?"
That really important lesson - the value of trying something new, no matter what the outcome is - stuck with me ever since I saw that movie as a senior in high school. So two years later it took the form of deeds and actions, the result of which is Methyl Ethyl Aldehyde, a name I picked practically as a placeholder, because if I let myself get stuck on a title, I would never start the project at all. And that was unacceptable.
So I wrote. And eventually, I drew, at least so much as you can call dragging a mouse around the screen in MS Paint "drawing". And not-so deep down lurked a hope that someone would see something I wrote and then pass it around the internet and I would become famous and crowds of people would lift me high above the streets shouting, "Julia! You are creative! Your wit and insight are just what the world needed! Osama bin Laden was so moved, he gave up terrorism and started planting flowers!"
Okay, I didn't really think that, but I did hope for some recognition that I was more than just some girl who was good at science. And I got it, not on a large scale, but from you readers, my friends. All of you were really brilliant about saying nice things about my crazy drawings and my weird little stories. You told me that you laughed and I felt like I had done something right. So I moved up to a bigger ambition. I started making videos.
My first video was a lot like my blog title - something I threw together in a few minutes just to make sure I didn't get hung up on making everything perfect. And it was pretty bad. But I kept trying and trying, and eventually, people took notice. I still don't have a ton of subscribers; hell, Charlie McDonnell could make a video of himself sneezing and pick up more followers than I have in 3 seconds. That's okay, because "making it on the internet" isn't really something I think about much any more. I think about making videos because I like it, posting blogs when I see religious symbolism in a mediocre movie, and engaging with the community I've found. I think about pushing the envelope of my creativity in whatever way I feel like that day - provided that I don't have homework. And from the few people who read and watch what I do, I see that enough people like what I do that I must be doing something right.
So now here I am. I am a person who has learned how to take risks. I write blogs, I make videos, and I walk through the Red Light district in Amsterdam at 9:30 PM by myself because it's a necessary cultural experience (well, not the "by myself" bit, but that's what happens when you travel alone). I've learned that perfection is something to strive for, not something to start at, and that sometimes getting something started means jumping in the water and flailing until you eventually learn how to swim.
To those of you who stuck with me during the first year of this project, thank you. It's been fun to have you along. And to those of you who have told me you look forward to saying "I knew her when", well, it might be a while. And that's okay. :)
