Double Post Friday: Juan Year Old

I started writing when I was five years old and wrote for a long time until I didn’t write anymore. At the age of forty-five, I started this blog out of a need to create my way out of a bad place.

What you are reading today marks post #272. Approximately 120,000 words later, we bring to a close my freshman year as a blogger.

Tomorrow, my labor of love, this blog, turns one and I couldn’t be more proud to celebrate this accomplishment with you (my seven loyal readers – this joke just doesn’t get old for me).

In the year we have shared together, I have used this board as my personal mirror of sorts to share events in my life, to recommend books and movies I’ve enjoyed, to air my grievances in my day-to-day and to give you a glimpse into some of my projects of fiction.

I found it hard to keep up with a daily post because I faced days of writer’s block where the words just would not flow. Conversely, there were days where I couldn’t say enough, I kept writing and writing. Posts exceeded 600 words (a big blog no-no in some circles) ignoring the rule that a reader’s attention span was not setup for this longevity in our world of mobile devices and quick glances at Facebook during the day.

The Facebook Timeline also managed to hurt my readership because people who had liked my page were no longer seeing it on their Timeline. Readers needed to go in and Subscribe to my posts all over again; most mobile devices were not setup to handle this process. Nonetheless, through Facebook, you have shared my posts with your friends over 2,200 times.

I thank you, deeply.

Juan Day At A Time has been my personal therapist in a year where adversity and unbridled happiness found balance in my life. I know I have become a better writer and a better person for embarking on this path. I’ve gotten more creative in my usage of words, challenging and stretching their definitions to create odd combinations of subjects and verbs that somehow worked.

I’ve become less of a censor and in so doing have managed to piss some people off. I’ve tried not to edit myself too much, allowing the organic process of word flow to inhabit my posts. It’s made for a more honest experience and with this honesty has come discord and misconceptions. Some have only affected these posts as demonstrated by your 1,593 comments and some have affected my life and my relationships in very personal ways. I have no regrets save for one: I wish I had written more.

My favorite posts have been the very, intimate ones where only a few choice people would truly understand their message, yet you managed to reinterpret my words to find a relatable meaning. My love of language has only been augmented by this process where something totally foreign has become purposeful to a stranger.

I’ve written about people (my Grandsomeones have been featured repeatedly) and places I love. These have been the easiest posts to create sitting in a restaurant by myself or while having breakfast in the morning. Words written from a place of love never get stopped at customs for clearance of disclosure – they simply jump on the page, passport free.

Writing about my wife has brought laughter and joy to all of you. Your favorite posts by far have been about Cleaning Day and Minga, they still reign at the top of the leader board.

I related to you my love for New York and my very personal connection to 9/11. You’ve been exposed to my fears and joys, my struggle with weight, my illnesses and my love of Martinis.

And it with that thought that I will leave you today. I raise my virtual glass, sprayed with Dry Vermouth, drowning in an abundance of Vodka and churning with pimento stuffed olives to you: Thank you for reading, thank you for writing and thank you for going on this very personal journey with me.

It has been my privilege to write for all seven of you (still doesn’t get old).