10 years ago, young Robyn decided to take an elective course in her junior year at New York University called "Digital Journalism" in which we learned about things like "weblogs," or if you were really savvy, "blogs." And our instructor decided that we should all have our own "blogs." And we made them on Dreamweaver 4. And they looked like shit. But they were our little corners of cyberspace, because that was what we still called it. It was a simpler time, back when you could say things like "surfing the net" and not sound like a huge douchenozzle.
I originally started the blog to keep my loved ones informed while I was studying abroad in London. And it was tedious. I didn't drink, didn't get in trouble, hung out with respectable people, nursed a bout of 9/11-induced post traumatic stress disorder and listened to a lot of U2. There. I just saved you three years. It's moderately less tedious now. But with more embedded video.
Though in fairness, it's been an eventful decade. I've came to terms with the loss of my best friend. I went to a historic inauguration. I lost on Jeopardy. I was attacked by a bidet. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about feline and lapine vet care. I looked up the word lapine. I made a bunch of mixtapes and drew a lot of pictures. I met not just one, but two of my all-time heroes. I was held hostage in my apartment by a moth. I scared the crap out of a sexually abusive fuckwad. I left and returned to the city I adore. I saw a shitload of live music. And I lost everything I ever worked for but found myself in the process, learning there are way worse things than being single. It's no accident that's when the blog REALLY started to get interesting.
Happy 10th birthday, little blog. I feel old.
This is easily the most narcissistic post of the whole damn decade. And that's saying something.
Thanks for listening.