loose: Revisiting what I do badly.

As soon as it happened, I already knew that I'd remember this day for the rest of my life.

And it wasn't because I had one of those nights that I'm suppose to always remember.

In fact, it happened some time very early this morning. If I had my glasses at that moment, I would have definitely taken note of the time.

Today was the first time I bled on the first day of a new year.

This was the explanation I was waiting for. The reason for how I was feeling mentally and physically for the past week or so. But I couldn't believe it. In my head I was already calling it an omen. Imagine how it must feel for girls who bled for the first time on the first day of a new year.

While most of me wanted to keep it to myself, the tiniest part of me wanted to share this with someone else. But who do I share this with? Other than my fiancé, who doesn't need me to say more than "I got it". Who can I share a lot of these types of things with? I had no way of answering this question, but I knew how I would have shared these things in the past. And that was through blogging.

I've had an on and off relationship with blogging. I've deleted and made more blogs, as well as blogged about how I deleted and made more blogs often. I didn't actually quit until I started to really dedicate myself to starting my career. The nature of my new career also made it easy for me to quit. It not only took up a lot of my time, but also made sharing the most intimate parts of myself a non-priority. I took it upon myself to claim that it wasn't appropriate.

I used to think the only good thing about blogging was being able to gratuitously write about yourself. Since having an audience frightened me anyways (hence the blog deleting), I thought writing journal entries were enough. But after feeling unsatisfied with just writing for myself, I realized that blogging allowed me to do something I enjoyed more. I enjoyed being intimate.

This is not to say that I do not have opportunities to be intimate in my every day life. There are different ways of being intimate. The conversations I have with my friends and family allow me to be intimate. The time I spend with my fiancé obviously allows me to be intimate. But opportunity was part of the problem. I don't want to have to wait for the opportunity to be intimate. I want to be intimate any time I want to. I do not only want to share my thoughts, moods and experiences. I want to curate them, in a way that is aesthetically pleasing to me. I just needed to give myself permission to do so. Something I didn't do every time I decided to delete.

In attempt to give myself permission, I've decided to start a blog - something I've done badly. The best thing about this is that you can choose if you want to read or ignore, interact or just witness, visit this URL or forget about it altogether. In the mean time, I'll be doing my best at being as intimate as the garments a person chooses to wear underneath to make them feel more confident (1), as the marks we choose or don't choose to have (3), as the positions we feel showcase what we like best about our bodies (3), while being as authentic as the rip in Karla's jeans - one of the greatest acts of effortless stylishness I've ever witnessed on the internet (2).