Even since I finished the latest redesign of this site, I’ve been fumbling around with my archives, trying to create a cohesive way to organize six years worth of content. And yes, I use the term “content” rather loosely. Last night, I was screwing around yet again, attempting, with my remedial web design skills, to find a good way to provide archive links, when I found myself pouring over content from the first real year of writing here on Crazybananas. I mean, 2004 was technically the first year of this experiment, but most of those posts were solely dedicated to my time in Italy, and were written like an email to my mother (see here or here).
But around mid-Spring 2005, I started writing here in a style that can only be described as totally insane. Instead of lovely letters home to mother, I started using the word “fuck” way more often than necessary. And I had no boundaries. None. Everything could be written about. And there was no Twitter or Facebook, so every little thing I thought was funny (and sometimes not so funny) was written here. For better or for worse, I shared it all. The sad stuff, the fun stuff, the scary stuff…and my filter, well, it wasn’t so great.
These days, my filter is thicker then the Great Wall of China. I have many, many stories I’d love to share, and would surely get a laugh, but something in my brain tells me to wait and reconsider before I hit the publish button. When I went back and read some of those early posts, I was equally amazed and appalled with myself. I was so young. So oblivious. So much funnier to read.
I don’t really know what the purpose of this post is. Do I want to go back to that style of writing? The whole, fuck you, fuck me, fuck the world mentality? Probably not. But I kind of miss it. I miss just saying what I mean and not sugar-coating it. I miss the honesty of it. The reality that things are not perfect, and it’s okay to share the imperfections along with the good stuff.
I don’t know. But I do know that I found a few posts I wanted to re-share with you. And maybe you could let me know, should I go back? Could I go back? After being a mom and a wife and a responsible (read: not completely drunk) human for a few years…is it possible to be that person again. Even a little bit? Am I actually still that person? Am I just censoring myself?
Either way, this shit be FUNNY.
(Note: Along with the posts, you must read the comments. You’ll recognize some familiar names, and they are nearly, if not more so, funny than I am. Lawd mercy.)
– That one where Mikayla and I discussed birth control…loudly, at a bar, in front of our boyfriends.
– That one where I got all mad at Heath for never leaving comments anymore.
– That one where I basically just ranted for five minutes.
– The one where Mara went batshit crazy.
– The one where I explained “The Grumples.”
– The one where Trent wouldn’t pick up his damn pants.
– The one where I got drunk and stuffed media kits.
– The one where I revealed my pregnancy.
– The one where I listed everything that made me cry while hormonal and pregnant.
– The one where the lady at Taco Bell said Trent looked like Dennis Hopper.