This means nothing to you, but it means quite a bit to me.
I discovered blogging, like I’m sure most of you did, quite by accident. I followed some search results, who the heck knows what the search terms were, and I ended up at a blog called “A Small Victory”. Its owner was a Long Island native, Michele Catalano, was approximately my age, and quite possibly the most compelling writer I had ever seen.
She was, personally, a trainwreck; she was filled with angst and bitterness, and her writing literally screamed off the screen. Yet, you could every now and then catch a glimpse of humanity – a vulnerability that few people are willing to display. I have modeled my own blogging after what I saw at A Small Victory; if you sometimes want to shout “too much information!” at me, you can blame Michele.
Reading her blog was addictive, and I went there literally every day.
Then one day, she just disappeared.
I found out later that she was going through a MAJOR transformation in her life. But I missed Michele’s daily writing and photographs. I just found out that she’s blogging again. In fact, dammit, she’s been blogging again for a year, and I missed it!
Let me just say that the transformation in the style of her writing is extreme – this is the kind of change you usually don’t see unless a person has had a religious conversion. She went from being full of rage to a quiet optimism and appreciation for those around her. She didn’t have a religious conversion, she found love. Good for her.
And her writing in this style is just as compelling. She can be incredibly funny:
The bathroom stall is a place of sanctity. It is not a living room parlor. It is not a coffeehouse. It is not a party room. It is a place where I perform the bodily function of elimination. It’s not a chat room. If you want to talk to me while I’m washing my hands, that’s all well and good. I’ll just go ahead and nod and mhhmm you as if this wasn’t the fourteenth time you were telling me the story about how your adorable little snowflake once saved the life of a cat who fell down a sewer. But I swear on my Star Wars figures that if you EVER again try to tell me that story while I am locked in the stall, I will wait until you get to the part where your kid gets a medal of honor from the town councilman and just as you start the phrase “standing ovation” I will let out the loudest fart you’ve ever heard in your life. It will leave you breathless and unable to finish your damn story.
Michele, you probably don’t remember me from Adam. But, you were the person who introduced me to this whole world. I’m so glad you’re back. And like the new you.