I’m a 50-something poet and writer with epilepsy, fibromyalgia, and depression. I also have moderate scoliosis, stage three chronic kidney disease, and multiple repetitive strain injuries, but I don’t blog about them because then I’d have to sacrifice my blog’s nifty title. Only my epilepsy, fibromyalgia, and depression are tied to my brain. Only they invite my blog title’s awesome alliteration: “Julie Blogs Her Brain.”
When not uploading posts about my brain, I watch my partner eat pho laden with beef while I eat the vegan option. Or he watches me make muesli and refuses it because I inundate it with goji berries. But we eat and don’t eat together in our condo in Berkeley, CA, and have been doing so for the past twenty years.
As I write this, I’ve only been blogging for three months, but maybe when you read this it’s been six months or nine months or even a whole frigging year. Maybe I’ve finally started posting once a week. Fingers crossed.
Finally, I dream of publishing more of my poetry and creative nonfiction in literary journals, not only on a blog. Or perhaps more realistically during the pandemic, I just want to resume writing poetry and prose every week. Or maybe imposter syndrome, not the limitations of pandemic life, courses through my veins, and blogging is the antidote. Do you want to pour the antidote in the needle’s barrel? Plunge it into my arm? Comment on one of my posts. Or comment on a comment. Please.
Or if you want to send me a pill, email it to julieblogsherbrain.com