Don’t call it a comeback.

No, really.  Don’t.  To do so would imply that I was on hiatus from something–in this case, blogging–but we all know that I was not actually doing that “something” in the first place. I mean, let’s face it: I haven’t blogged in like, a YEAR, yo–and even when I did it was, shall we say, intermittent.  And largely in the form of vlogging.  Which counts!  But still.

I know, dear readers, I know: you hate me.  A year is a long time; you’ve grown bitter.  You’ve been sitting at your desk each business day, frantically alt-tabbing between windows, searching for something to read that is neither spreadsheet nor Outlook reminder.  Something to make you laugh.  Something to make you feel human again.  Something your company’s firewall won’t block.

What you’re going to have to come to accept, my dear, desperate readers, is that we Writers spend most of our time doing one unbelievably difficult, incredibly important, yet continually scorned thing: Not Writing.  I like to call it “gathering material”.  Under no circumstances would I characterize it as “procrastinating”, “napping”, or “looking at pictures of cats on the internet”, because none of these phrases adequately conveys the noble suffering that I, the artist, must willingly undergo in order for you people, the audience, to experience the transcendent moments of heartbreaking beauty and life-altering understanding contained within the margins of these posts.  The life of a blogger is arduous and complex.  But, I digress.

So yes, long-suffering readers, it has been a hard year–filled with the rigors of Not Blogging–but the important thing is that I’M BACK.  And gayer–I mean, queerer!–than ever.  But more on that later.

Now, by this time you may have noticed something unusual about my blog: it is no longer wallpapered with Lindsay Lohan & Samantha Ronson, “L Word” screenshots, and rainbow cake.  In other words, it is a different blog.  Get ready to meet your… Hair Apparent.

Now, you might be feeling a bit confused and disoriented, and that’s only natural.  Perhaps you have some questions.  So in lieu of an honest, heartfelt discussion, I invite you to watch the following video clip.

Just kidding, we’ll have the stupid talk!  You’re having some feelings right now.  You’re wondering just what the heck happened to Ah, Regret.–you loved that blog and now you have to add a whole new URL to your Google Reader  and ugh you HATE change, you’ve been eating a turkey and cheese sandwich for lunch every day since you were six years old and now I’m asking you to switch to a cobb-salad-dressing-on-the-side, make that two dressings on the side they never give you enough in those little containers, and it’s just not that easy OK?!  Well to all the naysayers out there: I DO win friends with salad.  (See what I did there?)  And I will continue to mix metaphors and meta pop culture references till the internetz explodes, no matter WHAT my blog is called. #booyah #dudeimsometa #belieber

Listen, you guys.  It’s not that I don’t ([un][?]ironically) regret things anymore, or that I don’t still see the world through rainbow-colored sunglasses with unicorn-printed frames.  (Which is probably an actual thing for sale at CakeSpy).  I love Ah, Regret. just as much as you do.  It’s just that I’ve… *drumroll please*… outgrown it.

Yes, that was a boring, vaguely “adult”-ish thing to say, and yes, I did barf a rainbow in my mouth as I typed it, but it’s true!  Do you still write in the same journal you kept when you were thirteen?  (“Dear Diary, My ‘Adult’ Angst Has a Blog Count.”)  Do you still wear the same jeans you sported in middle school?  (Well you probably should–they’ve got all that ’90s-looking stuff at H&M right now.)  OK so those were bad examples, but you get the point.  I got a new fuckin’ hair cut, and stuff.  So I made a new blog.

I know what you’re thinking, skeptical readers.  All this talk of hair cuts and growing up–this isn’t the surly lump you know and love.  And love to hate for not blogging enough.  (We’re kind of like frenemies, dear readers.)  All those years of West Coast living must have like, totally taken their toll, dude.  You hate to say it, but wow.  She’s really lost her edge.

WTF?  Is this the kinder, gentler Val?  I mean, is this “new blog” even going to be funny?  Or is it just going to be some sort of group therapy sob-fest about hard-earned lessons and personal growth?  The Tao of Hair?  All I Need to Know I Learned in The Pacific Northwest?  Tuesdays with Vally?  SHOULD I GIVE UP, OR SHOULD I JUST KEEP CHASIN’ RAINBOWS….

You GUYZ.  Calm down.  They say people are like wine… they mellow with age.  Well, I’m more like the box of Franzia you bought with the last twelve dollars in your checking account so that you and your two friends could sit on a park bench and drink the entire thing from styrofoam cups (read: directly from the spout).  (That was even more elegant than the salad metaphor, FYI.)

If you look up “snark” on Urban Dictionary you’ll see a picture of me.  (Then look up “gullible”.)  I’ve watched “Mean Girls” at least fifty-seven times.  I’m a loner, Heathie, a rebel.  My other bike is a unicorn.

So here’s the situation.

I am going to continue to blog about my favorite subjects of all time, which are a) myself, b) gay things, and c) internet things.  Also my hair, which is d) all of the above.  You are going to read the posts and never be the same again.  You will inevitably feel moved to post a comment, to which I will compose a scathing rebuttal, sparking the sort of lively intellectual discourse a TED speaker could only dream of.

So think of Hair Apparent as my “Confessions Part II“–and think of me as Usher, but with better hair (and a remarkably similar upper body).  Ah, Regrets Part II?  Just when you thought I typed all I could blog.


5 Comments on “Don’t call it a comeback.”

  1. Rae says:

    Welcome back. I’m sorry to hear of your loss… of motivation and insistent (yet not quite worrisome) apathy. I really want some rainbow-tinted unicorn glasses, but I settled for a calender of lighthouses instead.This month’s inspriation message is:

    A ship
    on the beach
    is a lighthouse
    to the sea

    which roughly translates into Raespeak as:

    I sip
    from a spout
    of a life
    not without
    lots of boxed whine

    for you Val- glad to know ye. (Typed explicitly withOUT an exclamation point, for your dead-pan comfort)


  2. More Val! More Hair! More internetz!


  3. Gramps says:

    Well, I’m glad… least now I won’t have to wait for you to mistake me for someone else on gchat just to hear from you. This should also be considerably less awkward and embarrassing (for you) as an added bonus.


  4. Big al says:

    It’s about damn time


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