Season 5 of the Emma June show is here. Is it a comedy? A tragedy? We can rule out romance for sure, but is it horror? 

Does it change every episode? 

I’ve been away from the blog for a bit. I didn’t mean to be; I’ve just been trying to juggle how to be a grown up with a grown-up job, grown-up stress, grown-up emotions, and a grown-up social life. 

Spoiler alert: being a grown up is a CHORE. Sometimes a beautiful, sparkling, unbelievable chore, and other times a knotted, haphazard, smelly chore.

C’est la vie. 

Anyway, I’m back to the blog again, bringing my sagesse to the Internet. Since it has been a little while (and since a “How to be a Good Blogger” Pinterest post told me to), I am going to sort of reintroduce myself. I’m not really the same gal I was when I started this blog, you know. 

If you already know me, you’re welcome. If you don’t know me, and can’t imagine how someone can be so egotistical and yet also so self-deprecating, then let me say, it’s nice to officially meet you.

I’m Emma June. 

I am a journalist at a weekly newspaper in West Virginia (re: the grown-up job I mentioned before). I moved to my small town about 3 years ago and I haven’t looked back. I’ve never been into the urban lifestyle; it’s just too many people, too close to me, and too much for me to handle. I like the slower living that happens here. 

I’m passionate about many things. I could be boring and list things like “writing,” “music,” and “coffee,” but then this blog post would be reading a little too much like my Bumble profile. 

I do love writing, though. Telling stories (either my own or other people’s), getting ideas out of the perpetual mosh pit that is my brain and onto paper, exploring ideas and seeing where they take me, being adventurous with my voice, all of it. It’s not just “writing.” It’s the medium by which I understand myself.

Ya feel? 

I’m passionate about learning to love and accept my body. Probably 80 percent of my blog posts are around some iteration of self-love or self-acceptance, and that’s because it matters. 

It’s as simple as that. 

I think about 10-year-old Emma all the time, about to become a preteen and totally unaware that as she gets older, her relationship with her body will become a warped one, full of derision for the one body she’ll have the rest of her life. 

I want to be loud about self-acceptance for her. 

I know that the journey I’m on is one that so many others are as well, and that it’s not just me. 

It’s not just me. That’s one of my mantras here on this blog. I may sit at my laptop and be able to type out words about my diet struggles, insecurities and anxieties, and my relationship to my body, but I know I’m not alone here. And that’s why I do it. 

Since I’ve waxed poetic about the passions behind the blog, I guess I should write about some stuff that will actually allow you guys to learn about me, huh? Okay, here it goes. 

I don’t light candles in my apartment because I’m terrified it’ll burn down the building, so I use wax melts (though I’m not quite sure that’s better…?). 

I’m pretty good at doing my nails, when I’m not being lazy. I can even do little flowers and animals, too, if I have the right colors.

I am actually passionate about coffee; that’s not just a trivial, humdrum thing I wrote on my Bumble profile. But, like, I’m passionate about DRINKING coffee, I’m not a coffee snob. I just am passionate about having coffee in the morning – any kind, really – so I don’t murder anyone at the slightest convenience during my day. 

I am what I like to call “perpetually unattached.” That means that I’ve never been in a long-term relationship before, and somehow always find myself in those annoying three-monthers with guys – you know, the point where it should be “shit or get off the pot” in your relationship, the point where you decide if you want to take a serious plunge.

I’m always plunging by myself, it seems. So, “perpetually unattached” it is. 

I, like most other twenty-somethings, love watching animal videos on social media. I love a good puppy vid, don’t get me wrong, but I’m into weirder stuff too. I follow this account that’s just frogs and geckos. I love them. Or, like, those videos of little baby cows getting pampered and their little hooves scrubbed and their noses kissed? 

Yeah, that’s my shit. 

I keep fake flowers in my apartment because I kill every plant I come into contact with. Like King Midas, only it’s not gold that surrounds me, just dead plants.

I majored in French in college, and I sometimes argue with myself in French when I’m alone. I’m very persuasive. 

There’s a bunny that lives in a bush outside my building and I named him Potato because he looks like a potato. If he could speak, he’d probably name ME potato. 

Because, well, I also sort of look like a potato sometimes. 

I wear leopard print almost every day, unironically. 

And by “unironically,” I don’t mean I’m doing it to look tacky in an ironic and fashiony way. I mean, I genuinely love the way it looks. I can’t explain it. I don’t know when the obsession began. I just know that I love it. 

I love taking Buzzfeed quizzes. I have a deep, burning desire to know which guy from Twilight I should take to prom, or what kind of tattoo I should get based on what toppings are on my “dream pizza.” 

I’m trying to get back into reading. When I was younger, I would hoard books in my desk at school and even sometimes get in trouble for reading in class. I’m trying to reawaken some of that vim and vigor for the written word. 

I got weirdly into Season 2 of Bridgerton. Like, REALLY into it. I watched it 3 times in a row, end to end to end. 

I’m not sorry. 

I’ll choose hot dogs over hamburgers, pizza over pasta, Chinese food over barbecue, pie over cake, and I am a bottomless pit if you give me a bag of potato chips. I’ll demolish them in one fell swoop. 

That’s kind of a lot of information. I don’t know how to talk about myself in a normal way (I blame all of the horrible “icebreaker” games we had to play during orientation week in college. I was traumatized. How many times can one person play “Two Truths and a Lie”?), but this post is a good start. I’m aiming to be more active and more consistent here, because like I said above, whatever you’re here and reading this blog for, I feel like it matters. 

So, welcome to Season 5.