Moments after watching Ricky Don’t Lose That Challenge finally win something on Project Runway, I realized today is the one year anniversary of Trybecca. Blogging is a challenge, too. I echo Ricky’s teary-eyed admission to the judges: “It’s been a roller-coaster!” (Also, in an unrelated side note, why do producers keep insisting the designers sprint to their materials? Poor overweight Chris. It isn’t Project Run-this-way.)
I started Trybecca on Jan 24, 2007. It began as part of a drink induced to-do list scribbled on a napkin at Metropolitan Bar. If I remember correctly, “start a blog” was just after “get out a bed” and right before “don’t date the emotionally stunted.” I never expected to follow through. I thought I’d mend my broken heart the emo way — by obsessively quoting Buffy and pimping out my MySpace profile. Also, Woody had introduced me to the Playstation game “Bully.” If drop kicking virtual kids in preppy blazers wouldn’t do the trick, I figured nothing would.
But I set up Trybecca anyway, getting past the initial hurdle of Trybecca.com being taken (it’s still “coming soon!”–please, may I have it?), and to my surprise, blogging proved enjoyable. I was getting out of bed, even. Then I had a job. Then I fell in love. Then I lost that job and lost that man, but a new job came along, a better job, and then that man came back, a better man, to a better me. So now I have a job and a love and a blog.
I needed to heal so I went and got some blog plaster, and patiently, over many entries, re-set myself. I can hardly tell I was ever broken! It was Year of The Cast and I’m hoping you, my readers, will sign it before I cut it off. I’m not abandoning Trybecca; I’m seeing it into its next incarnation. My friend Nicole’s blog is a blue pitcher. Now maybe mine is a lily pad. Or an antique silver cigarette case. Only 2008 will tell. I’m beginning work on a collection of creative non-fiction essays (more about that project later) and I certainly wouldn’t have gotten there if it weren’t for here.
So please sign my ARM cast (my actual initials). Like Ricky, I could use the encouragement. And thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: OK, since what we’re dealing with here is a metaphorical cast, and what I needed was a picture of an actual cast, I went with Hannah’s. Hannah is a blond, beach-loving, and apparently clumsy, British girl. I don’t know her. Her arm appears courtesy of Google images. Hannah, here’s hoping you didn’t get that cast wet! Although honestly, it could use a little water. Right now it looks as if they ran out of ramekins at an Indian restaurant and you offered to serve up chutneys on your bum arm.