This month on Running In Heels…

…I interview a young and fabulous Greek designer.

…I enlighten the non-blog reading masses on the joys of RSS.

…I gush about PostSecret

and finally, I sneak in a typical Hope Dies Last kind of post. It’s all about horoscopes and boys and life and love and destiny and stuff. Consider that my post for today!

Please, if you could be so kind,  check them out. Last month my articles made it to the most read list. And I am pretty certain I have all of you to thank for that. So thank you. Really.

Now, go!

Blush

I remember the good ol’ days when all I would think about was blogging.

I would compose blog posts in my head, in the shower, while driving, on the back of receipts while standing in line at the supermarket. Nowadays, I have a writer’s notebook. And in it, I write. The need to share my writing has waned. Because my need to expose myself has waned. As much as I would like to be the kind of blogger that posts every day about anything and everything, I can’t be. When I sit down to write, even fiction, it is always those inner, inner thoughts about fears and love and relationships and truth and death and meaning.

I don’t do small talk (Well, I do but it makes me uncomfortable) so, I’d rather not post about small things. (Even though I have opinions about all of that lovely stuff like my insane obsession with Jon Stewart and leggings)

The truth is that I’m embarrassed.

In July, I honestly believed that I had found The One. And I blogged about it in the way that I have always done. With absolute abandon and no regard to the future. But I swear I was certain. I was convinced that this blog was about to evolve from single girl to attached girl. That its very name ‘Hope Dies Last’ would finally be a source of real and documented inspiration.

But then it all blew up in my face.

And for the very first time in my blogging experience I was utterly and completely mortified.

What on earth possessed me to share yet another romance and the subsequent rejection to the masses? How many times do my readers really need to read the same exact experience? And oh my god, in the last three years, I seem to be having the same exact experience over and over again; with four different men.

I’ve always maintained that I’m not that fussed about the impression that I give people; on and off line. But this time, for unclear reasons, I gave a damn. I was embarrassed by this rejection. And I didn’t want to write about it because I was embarrassed. But it was the only thing I wanted to write about. And so I just stopped writing.

I’m still a little red around the cheeks. But I think its time that I jumped back on the metaphorical horse and be the blogger that I was; the blogger that I am. The only kind of blogger that I know how to be.

Doodlepalooza

In a moment of blogger camaraderie, I attempted to write my own doodle for Peter’s annual Doodlepalooza.

Check it out here.

I think it may just make you laugh.

Modal verbs

I can’t:

Decide in which direction to take this blog.  Find the right colour to paint my flat. Style my bangs. Wake up in the morning.

I can:

Make a four month old smile by simply entering the room.  Watch back to back episodes of The West Wing for the twentieth time and still feel like I’m watching for the very first time.  Believe in better days. Look like a million bucks even when–inside–I feel like a crumpled, dirty, counterfeit five euro note.

I won’t:

Let my past experiences act like predictors for the future. Lie; Fergie’s Big Girls Don’t Cry is one of my most listened to tracks on iTunes. Be broke and in debt forever. [Right?]

I will:

Eventually, get on an airplane. Buy new leggings. And new panties. [Faded and outstretched do not a femme fatale make]  Stop blaming myself for the flawed behaviour of others. Love myself.

I should:

Floss more often. Eat better.  Start Pilates again. Wear heels more often.  Probably, stop giving the evil eye to all couples I see on the street. [Bitterness is for spinsters. Not for 28-year-old, adorably neurotic women who, let's be realistic, have plenty of options left.]

I shouldn’t:

Put too much stock in Susan Miller’s prediction that October 16th marks the beginning of an exciting new era romantically.  Expect anything. Be afraid of letting the next one in.

*As seen on It’s like I’m…Magic almost four months ago.

Change

Dear Readers,

In the next couple of months I will be making some big changes to Hope Dies Last. I feel that it is time for my blog to evolve from an anonymous online journal to my own personal/professional website–real identity and all. I say professional because whether I am published novelist or not, I am a writer. Yesterday’s manicure was payed by money that I earned through writing. Ditto the H&M cardigan I am wearing right now. Ditto the food in my cupboards and the gladiator sandals on my feet. I write therefore I am, you know?

It no longer makes any sense to me to split up my identity.  The writing that I have done on this blog is something that I am proud of; I have even  used some of this writing to get payed writing gigs. It is time for Hope to come out of the closet and join me in my real world.

Of course, this is complicated. I have exposed myself on this blog honestly and authentically. I have written about my emotional world as if no one was reading. And its been rewarding to say the least.  To be able to share my experiences with perfect strangers and for those strangers to then share their own stories, their own thoughts has enriched my life in no uncertain terms. But, I no longer feel comfortable continuing down this path of navel-grazing obsession.

Yesterday, I took the first steps that I need to take to achieve the evolution of this blog. Half of my posts have now been set to private. But you can still find them all in Google Reader.  (Google invading our privacy one badly designed application at a time). In the next couple of months, I will make more changes. I will probably move the contents of this blog to my own name domain. This website will be a one stop shop for all the various writing projects I am involved in. I will use my real name. I haven’t ironed out all the details yet, but Hope Dies Last is a name that I am attached to. I can’t let it go. So, one way or another, it will be included in this new website.

The blog itself will remain intact. I will continue to write daily. The content will be slightly different; but my voice will stay the same.

I hope that you will all continue to follow me.

Because come on, as a self-professed voyeur myself, I am certain that you will want to know when this perpetually single girl falls in love and is loved in return.

Despite these changes, one promise I can make is that when that day comes?

I will–most definitely–be writing about it.

x

Hope