One day, in September 2011, I was bored. So bored that I wound up starting a website to play around with and serve as some sort of outlet to escape my stressful life as a law student. It was pretty pathetic at first: terrible layout, the simplest of logos, and an audience of zero humans. My (now) wife didn’t even know about it until I was 4 months in. Look at what was going on around this time:
So I used this for a while, but I didn’t want GQ to sue me for infringing on their logo’s copyright (it’s kind of GQish, no?). There’s something nostalgic about this logo that really takes me back. So, trying to avoid a lawsuit, I eventually found another logo to replace it–this is around the time I changed the layout to what the website currently looks like.
Again, this hits me right in the nostalgia bone–oof. Over time, the stag became a sort of symbol for the website, which eventually morphed into what you see today. But really, this article isn’t a history of our design, but more a look back over where this website has gone in 500 articles.
For a long time, like a year, seriously nobody ever read this website. This was fine with me, because it was mostly just a personal outlet for myself–I wasn’t looking for internet fame or anything like that. I’ve always written because I’ve felt compelled to do so, and the words just pour out of me. Eventually, I had 50 articles…100 articles…150 articles…and before I knew it I had a pretty legitimate website going. People found me, I started getting emails from strangers, and it was a snowball effect. Today, I get more emails than I can possibly read (if I’ve ignored you, I’m sorry) and people are sharing my articles on social media outlets. This blows my mind that anyone would ever read, “like” on Facebook, or follow my website.
But really, when I look back over the last 500 posts, I see more of a documentation of my past than anything else. The “Rules for my Future Son” series really is a diary for my future son (or daughter)–it’s not just some schtick. When I go back and read some of my older articles, I get a little verklempt. Some of the lame jokes I made, the really bad photos I took, and the sub-par writing are all very charming to me. Since I started this website I got married, studied for the bar, became an attorney, moved 350 miles, and turned this website into a self-sustaining second job. It’s crazy how far 500 articles can bring a website.
This article, number 501, has really no point other than allowing me to say: “Whoa, we wrote 500 articles.” This is a really arbitrary milestone, sure, but there’s something satisfying about saying you’ve made it to 500 articles in a world where so many blogs fail to take root. This is not the Andrew show, though; I’ve made some amazing e-friends along the way that have inspired me to do great things.
First and foremost, Joe from Dappered is one of the best guys you will ever talk to. He’s a totally genuine and straight-shooting guy, and it’s amazing how prolific and consistent he is over there, and he has been one of the most inspiring driving forces for Electrogent, and I can’t thank him (and his wife Sarah) enough for all they have done for this tiny website. Secondly, Tom from Taun also had a huge impact on Electrogent. He was one of the first grooming company owners to reach out to me, and as a former law student (and New York licensed attorney) who started an internet business, he could relate to the struggles of being an online startup. He has been, and continues to be a really great and interesting guy. Last, but not least, is you–the reader. We have more comments than articles, which blows my mind, considering how long it was before anyone commented at all. I always love hearing from my readers, and knowing that someone is out there, reading this, is a main driving force for writing. I’d like to thank all of you for continuing to inspire and motivate me to make it this far.
All in all, it’s been a great 500 articles so far, and I can’t wait to make it another 500. I’ll keep writing for as long as you keep reading, deal?
Thanks, y’all.
