Now, before I dive into this love letter to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, I think that you may need some context on who you’re dealing with. In this time travel post, remember it’s 2004, I am 22 years old and have only existed outside the shackles of my ultra conservative, aggressively religious, prison-level lockdown strict, ‘because I said so’ childhood home for about three years. Everything is new, everything is magical.

Clem and Sam showed me the path to weirdness, then came Kat (Julia Stiles) from 10 Things I Hate About You. Kat showed me that you can also take no shit, which was a concept that escaped me. Saying ‘no’ or ‘talking back’ when something didn’t sit right was never an option in my home, so consider the elation that washed over me when I rented 10 Things, probably from Blockbuster if they were still around, and saw a gal who was in complete control of her destiny. She knew what she wanted, and she didn’t waver.

Then came Ramona. Now I have to admit, it’s been since 2010 that I saw Scott Pilgrim vs the World, so my Ramona memories are not as crisp as those from my formative tangle with freedom. Upon a quick search, it’s confirmed that she is an MPDG (Manic Pixie Dream Girl), but that there is a sprinkle of more to her. While I don’t remember the movie very well, I do recall Ramona and thinking, ‘ Yeah, I dig her vibe and her style. ‘ I think that — as shallow as it is — her style was exactly what I connected with, or maybe wanted to connect with, since I personally didn’t really dress like Ramona, but I wanted to.

The point I’m making with this post is that, while these characters were indeed created to help propel the storyline of a male character, for a little 20-something girl from a dysfunctional home and childhood, I really connected with the concept of possibility through them.

These characters were bold, unique and different. They were ‘quirky’ and had cool hair and/or cool clothes, and mainly carried a vibe that was ungovernable, which was something my little pre-fully-developed frontal lobe was starving for. They showed me that the type of gal I wanted to be was out there, sort of… I didn’t know what being a feminist officially meant, yet, so give me a break on that piece of it all. Still, I knew I identified with these characters on an aesthetic and, to some extent, a behavioral level.

The constant book reading or sketchbooking, the funky attire and hair, the brooding and sometimes moody disposition. I found myself in an awkward place, trying to figure out who I was in a time when I was newly on my own and had never been allowed to be anything other than what my family deemed acceptable. For me, the MPDG was truly a dream, until it wasn’t; then it became a possibility.

So, for that alone, let’s give the MPDG a little bit of a break, granted that I don’t love the fact that the sole purpose is for a male character. Still, if you can remove that from the MPDG archetype and just look at the few dimensions of her that we do get, she is actually a pretty cool gal who would be a great friend and a blast to thrift with. She would tell you that you have food in your teeth, she’d let you borrow her favorite boots, and she’d introduce you to some great books and records.

So, let’s let her be that version, and that version alone.

Thanks for time-traveling with me in this one.

— R

During the mouse clicks and drag-and-drops, a whole world of blogging was quietly unfolding in front of me. The internet was fresh and still made noise when you connected to it during these times. It was clunky and 8-bit, and it was music to my juvenile ears.

A yearbook co-conspirator invited me to LiveJournal, and it sounds silly, but I think it changed my life. See, I grew up in an insanely conservative home, raised by a grandmother who regularly rifled through my backpack and listened in on every phone call just to make sure I wasn’t falling into the wrong crowd or being influenced by the Devil. I remember making my account on the spot and feeling a cool sweat gather at the back of my neck, because I knew that if my grandmother ever found out I had a LiveJournal, I’d probably never see daylight again. But at the same time, I rarely saw the light of day because under her rule, no friends stayed the night and I certainly didnt sleepover at their houses, there were no weekend outtings to the mall, I was a teenage prisoner in our singlewide trailer. There was no convincing her that her single wide thinking was wrong, thats just how it was.

Anyway, back to it, when I clicked on that publish button, oh my god, there was this exhilarating rush of freedom that I had never felt before.

And if you’re wondering, yes, eventually she found out. But we’ll talk about that another time.

LiveJournal gave me access to other weirdos who were just like me. As I got older and started intentionally creating distance from my family, I always came back to blogging. I loved it. I mean, I love it. I’m here, aren’t I?

Back then, LiveJournal was just a silly little brain space, nothing special, nothing profound. It was just a corner of the digital dial-up where I could talk about movies, television shows, and clothes (that I technically wasn’t allowed to see, watch, wear or even like) with people who liked the same stuff I did. Eventually, I graduated to Google’s Blogger platform and lived there for almost two decades, writing about my silly little outfits and daily life. Again, nothing profound.

Now, after about thirteen years, I’m feeling the itch to document again. I don’t see myself doing outfit posts (not like I used to, anyway), but in today’s world, a space where it’s okay to be an oddball feels like something we desperately need. Something I desperately need.

Lately, I’ve been revisiting the crafts and art forms of my youth, almost all of them analog. While I do see the slight hypocrisy of preaching the analog gospel on a digital platform, who cares, right? This world and society we’ve created is all make-believe anyway. Do what you want. Like what you like. Don’t let anyone or anything stop you from being the version of yourself that you’ve always wanted to be.

That’s what I’m trying to do, anyway.

I want to find fellow freaks, geeks, wierdos and mavens. If you are out there - HEAR MY CALL! Forever ago, blogging opened a door for me that showed me that my unhappiness was an institution and not that I was bad, or wrong or corrupt, but that instead, I was being forced to fit a mold made for me by someone who inherently hated me.

Blogging gave me safe passage to finding out that I was actually not alone and that I was in fact normal, and that there was a lot more out there, that the world had more possibilities than what I saw in my IRL views. Maybe this version of blogging won’t unlock some magical doorway into a new, untapped version of my “self,” and maybe it ends up being a place where I just post pictures from my garden, chat about books and share messy spreads from my sketchbook. Maybe it’s just a silly little blog and no one reads it. I think that’s okay.

So, for my very first post here, if the eyes reading over this post belong to another navigator looking for another oddball, I’ll leave you with this:

Enjoy the ride. We only get to live this version of life once, so let’s make it a fun one. You’re actually kind of perfect.