My very first blog posting as Annie Em one year ago today was nothing special: a self reflection on why, in the midst of a very busy November, I was even starting a blog. November 22nd is one of those days in Annie’s personal, only-a-mother-would-care history: I was supposed to be born on this day 46 years ago. My strong, single 20 something year old mom was sitting in a rocking chair, all packed, waiting for her first little bundle of joy to be born (the doctor SAID I’d be born on this day, so of course he was right, despite also telling her a few years earlier that she was “barren”), while her own mother nagged her about this and that (undoubtedly about her hair and her impending single motherhoodness).
But, perhaps, in my first feminist act, I chose not to be born on the day the sexist prick of a doctor ordered. Or perhaps, having heard about the assassination of JFK, I simply refused to enter a world where my birth would be overshadowed by such a national tragedy.
And 45 years later, I started a blog. I’m sure there’s no coincidence whatsoever.
And since then, I’ve also joined Facebook (mostly for sharing photos with friends and family members), and, a few weeks ago, Twitter (mostly for professional contacts). But only here am I free to be Annie Em, not beloved daughter, silly friend, or colleague.
Now, how to celebrate an anonymous blog? I’m thinking of changing the blog’s theme. Or, writing a posting about my favorite-least favorite-most embarrassing postings (a sort of belated response to Dr. No’s call for postings).
Or maybe I’ll do nothing. After all, I’m only a 1-year old blogger. I should just smear cake all over my face, grin for the camera, and gurgle with glee while playing with the wrapping paper.