When Inspiration Strikes, You (Metaphorically) Strike Back

I never planned on making a blog - great way to start my first post, right? To be perfectly honest (something I will attempt every time I write on here), I just wanted to finally step up and make a professional website.

I’m a recent college grad who studied acting, writing, with a dash of directing. In other words, I received a four year education in anxiety, crying, forced-collaboration, and deep, paralyzing psych-analysis all under the guise of “art”.

Then, in my final semester of college when I was about to be “free” and go out into the world to grab on to it and force it to listen to every one of my fascinating thoughts, I was given the assignment to “make a website”.

Well, I did the bare minimum. I was one bad day away from a nervous breakdown at this point and, frankly (fare warning, I am often frank), didn’t really give a shit anymore.

So, I created it using Wix, obviously using the free version since I’m pretty damn cheap and didn’t feel like buying a domain. I slapped on my horrible unflattering headshot (also free; school provided) onto the front page, a few arbitrary tabs of my achievements, and a ridiculously cliched summary of why my art is “special”.

Fast forward a few months (long, terrifying, tear-filled months of even more anxiety), and I find myself in the need of a few business cards. It’s impossible not to think of that scene from “American Psycho”, and I admit I am tempted to give them a watermark.

Where am I going with this entire story, you may be wondering? I promise you I’m getting somewhere. I always do, even if I my stories often divert and twist for far too long so that you mildly begin to lose interest. But then just when you’re about to...I hook you back in! At least, I attempt to.

Anyway...

There was a website section on the American Psycho-esque business cards, and BAM! The gripping thought occurred, “I’m a pseudo-professional, I need a website!”.

Now, I highly doubt people would even end up visiting this website, but it’s the thought that counts.

So, I tried to remember which password/email combo I used (does it really even matter, if someone wants to hack into something, they will. I watch “Mr. Robot”.) Then, finally, after the fifth attempt when I was facing being locked out like my mom anytime she tries to log into ANYTHING, I figured it out.

And boom, there it was. All of my long, hard, half-assed final semester work. 

The next step, of course, was to buy a domain. After intensive research, I figured the best deal was Google, and forced my cheap-self to pay for the fee.

Yay! Now all I had to do was link my domain to Wix!

It’s currently mercury retrograde, what the hell was I being so optimistic for?

Like everything of quality in this world (except for this blog), nothing is free. 30 freaking bucks a month, at least, to link my custom domain.

As you may have guessed, I refused.

The problem though, is that every site charges you a monthly fee to hook up the custom domain, and this is a bunch of bullshit. It’s like the Airtrain at JFK Airport charging you $5 for a one-way trip. Absurd. I don’t care if I was a millionaire, it’s the thought that’s deeply irksome.

But I still needed a website, that was the problem here. I’ve been lucky enough to get work as a theater critic (I’m definitely not opinionated, right?), and I have a book being published soon-ish, and maybe some other projects to possibly promote, sorry to throw this in, had to be done at some point. 

So, unfortunately in this modern-day world of Snapchat this, and Instagram that, you need an online presence to get anywhere.

So here I finally am! I’ve officially succumbed, mostly because a blog is the only free option for having a website.

Yep, there it is, the entire point to this post, it’s officially been found. I’ve created a blog so I can have a website, and, since I’m finally here, I figured I’d use it as an outlet to point out the irritating ridiculousness in this world that we must all continuously deal with. Or maybe I’m alone in my extreme irritations and intense analysis of childhood traumas that have led to this irritation, but I hope you can at least be entertained by it.

Thanks for the peruse and, trust me, there’s a lot more where that came from.