As this and other failed consecutive writing ventures can attest (my teenage diary seemed to only get filled when I was angsting over a boy), I'm pretty terrible at consistently writing about my own things. I've written a lot of blogs for past jobs, ranging from bios of old hollywood film stars to innovating in the public sector, but when it comes to personal blogging, if I'm lucky I get out a one off rant, collection of photos, or recap of a pop-up, but they are few and far between. These days, most types of regularly scheduled programming send nervous chills down my spine. In a state of transient anti-commitment, my life is currently one of working on about 6 different things (to name them - freelance catering, popups, cake supplier to a cafe, ad hoc kitchen hand, soon to be street food trader, and tentative book proposal writer), few of which can relate to words like 'consistent' and 'regular.' And I'm loving it. Every day is different, everything is a new challenge to tackle and hopefully triumph (and if not, fail and bounce onto the next). My daily learning quota is through the roof and as my scraped hands and weary feet can attest, I feel every ounce of the labour I am putting into these jobs. I finish my days exhausted, and ready to see what the next one brings.
That being said, and not due to any boy angst, it feels like time to pick up the old prose again - chronicle this time in my life where every day seems like a different world, and where for the first time, there is no set plan or agenda on what's supposed to happen next. It's time to resurrect the blog. I can't guarantee regular entries or anything of particular use or purpose, but I can guarantee strange ramblings of a rambler, pictures of good food, and a recipe or two.
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