The day I started a Substack
devoted to describing the ordinary adventures of my human affairs
Substack created a guide to encourage The First Post. Because I am supposed to convince you that I am a skilled writer ready to communicate the glory of my ideas, and because I’ve always been a pedantic student, here is my attempt to follow the manual from A to Z.
The first step is coming up with a title. The Ultimate Guide to Crushing Your Midlife Crisis: 10 Proven Strategies! was the runner up, but declined because an AI generated click-bait title is too pathetic.
The second step is clearing up my throat with authority to describe myself. An exercise congruent with that of a psychology course. And I would know that because I graduated in Psychology. Well then, let me begin. I'm 36. A Professor at a major university. Technically, a children’s book illustrator. I say technically because the only copy I sold was edited and published by the Bertolucci’s Production Team, aka myself and my Pickwick partner (who, you will come to realize, is a huge enabler of all my Pickwick adventures). In my defense I did actually publish a book on economics for which I was paid some potatoes, with my illustrations of children selling lemons featuring most of the pages, so who am I to criticize myself so harshly. I am also a part-time ballerina, performing at renowned theaters such as Civic Centers, Libraries, and the comfort of my living room. A makeup artist trained by the YouTube academy. A mom of an adorable human being that has a borderline pathological obsession with shoes since I met her five years ago. A mom of another adorable fluffy being from the animal kingdom, descendant of the British Shorthair lineage and consequently named after queen Elizabeth. A pursuer of a black belt in the fields of martial arts (myself, not the fluffy being). And finally, as of today, an online content creator.
The third step is adding a picture to give you a break from all these existential pieces of information. Here’s a drawing from the book no one bought.
The fourth step is telling you about the intentions of this community, and I am taken aback by the abruptness of this question. Had I lived in Ancient Rome, I would be suffering a soporific, existential midlife crisis. Something had to be done, so I started a Substack. This community is not about proven strategies to solve your midlife crisis, I’m sorry to say. Rather, is a chronicle of my ordinary adventures.
The ultimate step is to add a very subtle button. The encouragement to poke your inbox at my whim (not too often, mind you, because I am not so organized to post that frequently) and give you permission to procrastinate at your whim. Because what’s a world without democracy and free will.
And so, let’s all unite together to end this post about nothing by envisioning the portrait of myself, mouth open agog, enveloping you with a desperate silent cry of adult friendship, that goes something like Subscribe now…
