*crashes into your Friday with flashing lights and heaps of blogging glitter*
The Sarcastic Elf is two years old.
Yes, you read that correctly — it’s been 730 days since I flung myself headlong into the bottomless pit known as “blogging.” 730 days since clueless, wide-eyed, 15-year-old Sarah was swallowed by her computer. 730 days of unplanned posts, garbled grammar, lengthy stories about subjects no one but myself finds amusing, and more sarcasm than is probably healthy.
My blogging presence can be summed up in only one gif:
I was looking back through some of my old posts (because apparently, that’s what you DO when it’s your bloggiversary), and doing so has put my mental stability at serious risk. The first few posts of any new blog are bound to be terrible, but mine are… hilariously entertaining. And not in a good way.
More in a… “I’m going to stop this thrilling narrative right at the most suspenseful part so we can discuss the ludicrous nature of blue pencils,” kind of way.
Also, my grammar was embarrassing. (I recognize nothing has changed in that department, but still…)
So, for this most auspicious anniversary, we’re going to take a tour through the first four months of my blogging history — complete with quotes, links, and witty commentary as I proceed to make fun of myself.
Hold onto your socks.
Also known as “the one where it all started.”
When my sister first brought up the subject of me starting a blog, my reaction was one of skepticism. “Blogs are for teenage girls with nothing better to do,” I said, before realizing I was both.
There was no argument after that.
If that’s not enough to punch you in the face with nostalgic feelings, I don’t know what is.
If you think I’m introverted NOW, you definitely shouldn’t read this. (Though let’s be honest — you shouldn’t read it anyway. My grammar will kill you.) It’s actually pretty terrifying to remember how shy and socially paranoid I was back then.
See, it was Monday, and I was at homeschool co-op. My aunt was taking me home that day, but she was running late. So she told a certain cousin who shall remain nameless — Zachary Brice — to inform me of her schedule breach.
15-year-old Sarah was savage.
Many strange things have been known to happen in the Kingdom of Plerp, and the task has fallen to me, Sylvestrus Livingstone Clarencourt the Thirteenth, to write them down for future observation.
Guys — WHO’S UP FOR A RETURN TO PLERP???
Seriously, in all my horrendous beginner posts, this is one of the few things I’m still mildly proud of. (Awful grammar or not.) Sylvestrus Livingstone Clarencourt XIII will always hold a soft spot in my heart.
There are a lot of things one could take away from this post, such as why — despite popular belief — math is actually important, or the benefits of watching BBC’s 2008 Emma.
But for me, the best part will always be the opening line:
A very professional critic (my sister) told me that my intro for this blog post was awful.
Two years later and nothing has changed.
This, my dear friends, is sisterly love in a nutshell. But I will grudgingly admit that…hang on. I don’t know if I can say this.
Okay, never mind. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know.
Sometimes Anna’s actually right.
Ahem. You didn’t read that.
*facepalm* Sarah. Honey. You can’t just name your post “Art Junk.”
This week, I did what I told myself I’d never do with this blog: I waited until the day before to write the post. Only a month into this thing, and I’m already acting characteristically like myself.
I was so naive back then.
Also, let’s take a moment to appreciate this fine sampling of my young talents:
*clutches head* …please tell me I didn’t used to draw like this, please tell me I didn’t used to draw like this, please tell me I didn’t used to draw like this…
According to someone I’m pretty sure is famous, “Writers’ block leads to despair, despair leads to stress, and stress leads to the Dark Side.”
And thus began the long and unceasing battle I still wage between my own selfish ambition and the desire to serve God with my talents. This was actually quite foundational to the brand I later chose for my blog — the whole “giving God your talents” shtick, and “learning to be content with the little things life throws at you.”
Part 2 of the above post. There are many spiritual takeaways from this one, and lots of lovely life lessons, but I think my favorite line is this:
For three glorious days, everything was purple and glitter and capes.
This is the kind of thing I used to say. No joke. If I was having a good day, then it was a “purple and glitter and capes kinda day.”
As if you needed any more evidence that I’m a strange human being…
The only difference between now and then is that NOW, I look at this roster and am like… My family definitely SHOULD be movie characters. Oh my land. That would be one epic story.
The only difference [between mom and Hawkeye] is that if mom tried to use a bow and arrows, she would not only kill herself, but everyone else in a three mile radius.
Can I get an amen and an AMEN?
Guys, it finally happened: I failed.
Honey, you were failing waaaay before you decided to write poetry.
But also… y’know… your poetic endeavors weren’t exactly the greatest moment of your creative existence, either.
You see, Anna is a highly excitable individual. And for some strange reason, she gets extraordinarily hyper when either of our cats are suffering. Don’t ask me why, but there it is: Cat-fear makes Anna happy. She’s also very good at falling down stairs. So giving Anna a broom while she’s in a tiny laundry room with a miserable cat is bound to bring about the end times.
Possibly the weirdest and most intriguing paragraph I’ve ever written in my entire life.
If you’re part of that strange 0.2% of population who knows math, you’ll know what a month minus two weeks equals. I, on the other hand, had to use a calculator.
I’m such an intelligent person.
Also, does anyone remember the time Anna made me take pictures of her pretending to fall down the stairs?
Then she decided to drop the box for real. With a great crashing and breaking of glass, it tumbled down the stairs and whacked me in the head. “Man down,” I croaked from the abyss of concussion, before realizing three things:
Oh look, the box that fell all the way down the stairs is MY box.
It says fragile.
And I spelled fragile very wrong.
I’m… just gonna leave this one here…
*hides face and groans*
This is honestly embarrassing. WHY did I think I could (or should) do photography??
Moral of the story: Stop trying to be Tolkien.
Once again, another ground-breaking moment in my life. Looking back, it’s not a terribly spectacular epiphany — what I shared has probably already been written a thousand times before — but still, it was new territory for me, and began a massive shift in my perspective.
Let’s all be thankful I’m no longer that insecure.
And that “The Silvershaw of Glenborn” no longer exists.
I hope you’re aware I suffered physical and psychological pain to write this post. Beginning bloggers, let me impart some life-changing wisdom to you: Never reread your old posts.
Just don’t. It’s not worth it.
Still, going through my archives felt a little bit like going back in time. In the long run, two years isn’t very long, but when I compare where I am NOW as opposed to then, there’s no questioning the fact that The Sarcastic Elf has grown. A lot.
For instance, I no longer call my mother ‘Mop.’
God’s orchestrated some pretty cool things through this platform of mine, and given me the opportunity to meet some pretty cool people. Not to get sappy on you guys, but seriously — thank you. To all you lovely readers who chose to follow and support this crazy train-wreck of an website, let me say this: You’re the reason I’ve survived two years of blogging, and you’re the reason I’m going to continue blogging for many, many more years. Thanks for putting up with me.
Also, I think you should know that this is my 100th post. Let’s take a moment to be properly weirded out by that little coincidence.
Go away now.
I had about 15 minutes to edit, proofread, and publish this post, so if there are any typos, grammar issues, or general incoherence, I direct you back to the gif at the top of this page.
I do what I want.