Sunday Confessional

1. I almost hit a jogger because I wasn’t paying attention.

Yep. I was taking a right turn and almost nailed a jogger. I could feel myself trying to make the usual justifications— he came out of nowhere, I really couldn’t see him, he wasn’t watching where he was going, I’m not used to pedestrians. 

Except none of those things were true. He was on a pedestrian crosswalk. He was wearing neon blue shorts and neon yellow shoes for crying out loud. He was very aware of the world around him. For all intents and purposes, this guy was the pope of joggers. I had no excuses. Downtown Durham is all about some joggers, and I should’ve expected to see them out and about in their neons on such a fine day.  I had to admit it to myself: Ash, you’re that girl that almost hits pedestrians. I just ducked my head and drove away slowly (and awkwardly), hoping no one nearby recognized me.

2. I wrote an entire post about my hatred for the Papyrus font.

Yes, I’m taking time to get better at writing. Yes, my expectation was to create some wonderful masterpiece overnight. No, that never really happens in real life.

You have to just put words on paper for while to get the hang of who you are as a writer. You just have to sit down and write everyday—about anything. Some days I walk away from the paper and there are deep, important ideas happening. And other days I finish writing only to find myself staring at an entire article written about a font I hate. Such is life.

3. I wrote the first chapter of my new book-idea in a wine bar.

I call it a book idea because it may become a book, but it may not. It’s just an idea for now. And I wrote it at a wine bar by myself. I felt really grown up. I ordered an old fashioned and the bartender stared at me in pure confusion. I gave him a look that said Yes, I know what an old-fashioned is. He finally concocted the drink and slid to to me.

I felt really high-and-mighty since I’m a 28 year old woman who knows (and actually enjoys!) how delicious an old fashioned is. That is, until I remembered I was in a wine bar. He wasn’t confused because I knew what an old fashioned was. He was confused that I came to a wine bar to order something like that.

I finished the first chapter and told him I’d order wine next time I was in. I quickly left as a group of Duke girls bombarded the bar asking for Reisling. Sick.

4. I like doughnuts way too much.

I mentioned that I ate a Dunkin donut on last week’s confession. I didn’t tell you the whole truth: that wasn’t a one-time slip up. I like doughnuts a whole lot and they make appearances in my life on a semi-frequent basis. Okayyy Okay, on a frequent basis. They are my one vice! My arch nemisis! And anytime Cole and I get in a tiff he promises me a doughnut and it dissolves my anger immediately, so it’s not all my fault! He uses my weakness against me!!!

HOWEVER, I will reinstate my honor by telling you that I usually eat at Monuts, which is a locally-owned, artisan-made donut shop in downtown Durham. There. I’m supporting local business. You can’t fault me there. Doughnut shopkeepers need to pay their bills too!

5. I write beauty blogs and feel guilty about it sometimes.

I do the web & social media management for an amazing salon in downtown Durham. I do a weekly column on hair and makeup tips that most people don’t know about. Or maybe they know about it, but they don’t know it’s me writing the posts. I’ve thought about transferring some of that material onto my own blog because some of the beauty tips have really helped my daily routine! Through my work at the salon, I’ve come across some great products and would love to write product reviews. However, I feel like women can get really beauty-obsessed, and I don’t want my personal blog to be a conduit of that. I still haven’t made my mind up if I want to create a “beauty” section of my blog. It seems risky. And I felt like beauty blogging was a “secret” that most my friends don’t know about, so I wanted to just come out and say that I do that weekly for my job. (sigh of relief).

And those are this week’s confessions. Until next time, watch out for joggers and speak to your local congressman about Papyrus taking over your town.

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