Blogging has been an immensely satisfying, surprising, rewarding ride. When I moved my handwritten diary to an online journal that was still very private and very personal ten years ago (talk about looking back over the decade), I never dreamed it would morph into acquaintances, friends, community, road trips, a place to land. I was always drawn to this thing called The Internet. I always wanted my own website, my own virtual space, my own little world. Friends, I have it. If I could go back ten years and tell that little girl, “Just you wait!” I wouldn’t hesitate one second.
Just wait until you see where this takes you.
It will be incredible.
I’ve moved around the internet over the past five years the way I’ve moved around the country. Not aimlessly, at times a bit hesitantly, but always knowing that my next destination would find me just where I needed to be. I started at now defunct Bolt.com, moved on to Diaryland, Bravejournal, Blogger, and WordPress. Each of these platforms has seen multiple incarnations of journals and blogs authored by some version of myself. From the Future Nashville Starlet to The Diary Of A Superstar to WholeNotes and Always B Natural, to a hundred different versions of …’til the river runs dry.
But, you see, the time has come to leave all of this behind. The moving, the identity crises, the perpetual sense of temporary being. I’m done with it. I’ve found my city, I’ve found myself, and it only makes sense that I make myself a permanent internet home as well.
And so, it is, at this time, with great pleasure, I am honored to present to you: CourtneyOlson.com.
My website and me? We’re still getting used to each other. I’m still decorating and individualizing it to my tastes, here and there (with the help of the ever-amazing Nico). This is not its final incarnation. However, it is certainly put-together enough for you to stop by and see it, finally. It is my new home. It is a place I am proud of, and I want you to share it with me.
So will you?
The music is there. The photos. The words.
Hop on over and subscribe, if you will. This will be the last move I ask you to make. I promise you that.
And sadly, this will be the last of …’til the river runs dry.
It was a good ride. It’s time for this to end.
From now on, I’m just Courtney.
And I get to live up to my name with every word I write.
It will be a challenge. But I’m always up for a good challenge.
Thanks for your support. I’ll see you soon, at the new place!
My hair phases used to run in four year cycles. Grow it, chop it. Grow it, chop it. Lately, I seem to have morphed to six month cycles: Bangs, no bangs. Bangs, no bangs.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Bangs.
It was only after he’d left that I walked into my bathroom and realized I hadn’t bothered to take out the trash as I usually do, or pick up the dirty pjs off the floor, or make sure there wasn’t a hot pink polka dotted bra adorning the counter before he came over.
Then I noticed he’d left my toilet seat up.
Things are getting comfortable up in here.
I started a song last night that I couldn’t find the words to finish. The melodies were there, but I couldn’t keep the thoughts going. The beginning of the song was all about not having a road map or street signs to follow, about roaming around, looking for an answer.
I guess I couldn’t find the answer.
I took another stab at it tonight, first in the form of a completely new song, and when I failed miserably at that, I went back to the one I’d already started. Neither attempt was fruitful.
Because we don’t have cable or even a digital converter in the house, I’m sitting in front of a self-updating live blog chronicling the 2010 BCS National Championship game. 2 and a half hours ago I had no idea what “BCS” was. I had no opinion on who should win the game once google told me what was going on. I’m still paying attention. It’s what I do.
Those two thoughts may seem ridiculously unrelated to you, but to me, they make perfect sense together. It’s something I’m not sure I want to completely verbalize, so I’m just saying it the way I’ve just said it, hoping that what I really mean will have been said clearly enough to empty my mind of the matter for the night.
I just try to remind myself that nothing is perfect and nothing is easy, and that the hardest things are usually the ones that are most worth it in the end.
So this is what I hope for 2009:
- either start or join a country and/or bluegrass band
- write songs with other songwriters
- join the NSAI
- play open mic at the Bluebird regularly
- audition for a Bluebird Sunday Night Showcase
- get at least one song published
- get a “real job”
- make enough money to become fully independent
- start saving to buy either A) a house or B) a new car.
(i’d rather the house but my mother pointed out that the car may be the necessity)
- make many new friends, some musicians, some not
- stay in better touch with old ones
- meet Phil Vassar for real this time.
- fall in love. i’ve got no good reason not to anymore.
So there you have it. I guess I made resolutions this year. Did you?
I generally don’t make resolutions, but last year, for whatever reason, these ones just spilled out of me. I didn’t get to all of them, and a few of them are my own fault (Um, Phil Vassar had a FREE CD release party last month and I just opted out. Not that I would have definitely “for real” met him, but the odds improve when you play the game, am I right?) but generally, I’m happy.
So which ones DID I accomplish?
- I wrote songs and/or collaborated with other songwriters.
- I played the Bluebird open mic.
- I didn’t technically get a song published, but have had my songs used in multiple projects.
- Made lots of new friends.
- Tried to stay in touch with old ones. The success comes and goes, but I’m always working on it.
- And the falling in love thing? Well, we all know I’m working on it.
As far as the next year goes, a new job is certainly on the horizon. I foresee much travel, much music, and (gasp with me here: I still don’t believe it myself) maybe even grad school.
I want to teach, I want to keep writing songs, and I want to keep playing music for people. I’m just trying to find the best way to make it happen.
2010 is about making it happen.
I talked to him on the phone tonight and we laughed and vented and got a little philosophical.
I told him I’d make a list of his annoying quirks so he could work on his faulty personality.
He said, “Sounds like the perfect little project for a blogger. Don’t bloggers like lists?”
We’re not always nice to each other, but it’s all in good fun.
And no, I’m not going to make a list of his faults here for the world to read. Mostly because when I told him with all the sarcasm I could muster that no, he had no annoying or irritating or maddening traits or quirks or character faults, I actually meant it, minus the sarcasm. I mean, I’m sure he does – we all do – but at this point I don’t see them. I could list a hundred and two things (ball park figure) about him which I think are wonderful… the only thing I’d put in the “con” column is the fact that he doesn’t let me feed him nearly as often as I try to. Fudge, sir? Making soup! Come over! Like a cup of hot chocolate whilst we conquer Mario 3?
This really isn’t a fault of his, in the end. It’s just a clear sign that I am an Olson girl. I belong to my Great Grandma Helena, for sure. Before you know it, I’ll be preparing for my father’s visits by making sure two things are in the house: Banana cream pie and all the fixins for raspberry milkshakes.
The real point of this all is to say that the fact that I blog has never been a secret but beyond the fact that I do it, we’ve never really talked about it. But he brought it up tonight, and though it was jokingly, it did kind of morph into the conversation that defined what he is and isn’t comfortable about me saying about him here. Meaning, I officially have the okay to write about him. In public. On the internet. And stuff.
And the fact that my mother and everybody she sent Christmas lists to this year has direct access to this website as well means he’s not worried at all. Lucky him.
I’m constantly reminded of how well I don’t know this boy. Some of the reminders are simply questions that come to mind, missing pieces as I try to puzzle together things he’s said and things we’ve done. Still, in other ways, I’m already finishing his sentences. Not in deep, philosophical ways. In silly, facetious ways. Still, what we have right now is working quite well. And I’m happy with it just the way it is.
And I do think, as a blogger, if I can’t have another blogger, dating a boy who is totally cool with me writing about him as long as I’m not sugarcoating things (well, I’m a sugarcoater in all cases, as a blogger, but I guess I won’t sugarcoat more than usual)(wouldn’t most people want you to sugarcoat things?) is kind of perfect, right?
You don’t have to answer that question. I already know.