untypicable turns one on 2nd November — a Sunday, which already feels like a breach of etiquette. We don’t usually post at weekends, mostly out of respect for our collective sanity and the faint illusion of work-life balance.
But birthdays deserve exceptions. So here we are: slightly over-caffeinated, overdressed in metaphorical party hats, and pretending this was all part of the plan.
When we first launched untypicable, we weren’t sure what it would become. A blog? A magazine? A safe space for overthinking and tea-based existentialism? Apparently, yes. All of the above — depending on the phase of the moon and the strength of the Wi-Fi.
A year later, it’s still here. A bit lopsided, full of personality, and prone to picking up strange ideas and waving them around like toys. But somehow, it’s walking. Sort of. Sideways.
The Early Months: Teething and Technical Tantrums
They say new parents live in a fog of exhaustion and doubt. Running a blog is the same, except the baby is a web server and it screams in error messages.
In the early weeks, we learned a lot — mostly about plugins that break everything and SEO guides that read like spiritual tests of endurance. We fretted about “niche,” “tone,” and “engagement metrics,” before realising we could just write whatever amused us and call it editorial direction.
Each post felt like a developmental milestone:
- The first piece that didn’t make us cringe.
- The first that was read by someone we weren’t related to.
- The first spam comment congratulating us on our “excellent insights into cryptocurrency.”
Those were simpler times.
The Identity Crisis Phase
By month three, we’d developed the modern writer’s trinity of despair: impostor syndrome, analytics obsession, and the creeping suspicion we’d peaked with the homepage font choice.
We looked at other websites for guidance. They all seemed confident, professional, and horrifyingly consistent. Meanwhile, untypicable looked like a bright idea scribbled on a Post-it note and stuck to a teapot.
But then people started to get it. Not everyone, but enough. Readers who liked that we weren’t chasing trends or pretending to be lifestyle gurus — just three people quietly muttering about life, the universe, and uncooperative printers.
Apparently, relatability is the new expertise.
Parenting a Blog: The Toddler Years Begin
Now that untypicable has survived infancy, the terrible twos are looming. The site is walking unaided but bumping into things, experimenting with tone, and occasionally shouting NO! for no reason.
If it were an actual child, it would be eating crayons and insisting it could run a podcast. It’s confident, unpredictable, and slightly sticky with creative ambition.
We’ve read that the “terrible twos” are when toddlers start asserting independence — which, in blog terms, means we’ll probably ignore good advice and publish something called “An Ethnographic Study of Lost Socks.”
Lessons Learned: The Honest Ones
- Consistency is overrated.
Life happens. Some weeks we post twice; others, we stare at drafts like archaeologists examining disappointment. Both count as progress. - Ideas come in bursts.
Inspiration isn’t a tap — it’s an unreliable kettle that hisses and occasionally floods the counter. - Everything takes longer than it should.
Writing, editing, resizing images, rethinking everything, then doing it again slower. - Nobody knows what they’re doing.
The best blogs are run by people who look confident while Googling “how to sound confident online.” - Success isn’t going viral.
It’s when someone emails to say, “This made me laugh,” or when we reread something and don’t immediately regret it.
Analytics: Our Emotional Rollercoaster
Checking analytics is like stepping on the scales after Christmas. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help yourself.
Some days, the numbers spike — usually for inexplicable reasons (“how to untypicably fold laundry” remains a suspiciously popular search). Other days, it’s tumbleweeds.
But the truth is, we didn’t start this for the metrics. We started because we had things to say, jokes to make, and a shared sense that if we didn’t write them down, we’d end up shouting them at pigeons.
Besides, one genuine laugh from a stranger beats a thousand drive-by clicks any day.
What Nobody Tells You About Year One
No one warns you that running a blog is basically an emotional apprenticeship. You learn by doing, by breaking things, and by occasionally arguing about commas.
You’ll publish something you love and it’ll vanish without a trace. You’ll toss off a late-night rant and it’ll get shared 300 times. There’s no logic — only chaos, caffeine, and mild despair.
And occasionally, amid all that, you hit a sentence that just works. That’s the moment. That’s why you keep doing it.
The Terrible Twos Forecast
As untypicable enters its second year, the plan is simple: survive, evolve, and maybe fix that one image alignment issue we’ve all agreed to ignore.
The site will probably:
- Experiment more.
- Swear slightly more.
- Wander off-topic and insist it’s “conceptual.”
- Post at increasingly odd hours, because apparently, we’ve already started the toddler phase.
Publishing this on a Sunday feels symbolic — like the blog climbing onto the coffee table and shouting, “Look what I can do!” before collapsing in a pile of cake crumbs and enthusiasm.
Still No Idea, and That’s the Point
After a year of this, we’ve realised that not knowing what you’re doing is secretly a gift. It keeps you curious, humble, and occasionally hilarious.
Certainty is dull. Uncertainty is creative. And if we ever start to sound like we know what we’re doing, please assume we’ve been replaced by corporate doubles.
So here’s to another year of doing it wrong, accidentally doing it right, and writing through the bits in between. untypicable will keep growing — sideways, diagonally, and sometimes back into its own archive — but growing nonetheless.
And if the terrible twos bring chaos, at least we’ll have good material.
Closing Thoughts (Before We Throw a Tantrum)
Publishing on a Sunday feels rebellious. Wild, even. Tomorrow we’ll go back to pretending we have a schedule, but today, the blog gets to stay up past its bedtime.
If you’ve read, shared, or even accidentally clicked on untypicable this year — thank you. You’ve helped a strange little corner of the internet find its footing.
Year two will almost certainly be unpredictable. But then again, so are we.
Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re off to baby-proof the analytics dashboard before Dwight tries to install another plugin.
Regards, AJ, Dwight, & James.
AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.
As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.
AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.
For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in. Also a contributor at Thinking Sociologically.
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