Tag Archives: writing

I’m not qualified to write this — but neither are you

Most of what I write stems from what I am reading. When I’m feeling particularly unintelligent and uninspired I spend the majority of my time browsing websites like Buzzfeed, a site devoted to teaching America’s youth to seek out internet fame, where they will be upvoted and lol-ed at until their funny vine is treated with contempt as “last year’s meme”.

Buzzfeed: because a few moving pictures and some cliche captions pass for an article.

Buzzfeed: because a few moving pictures and some cliche captions pass for an article.

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All of my excuses for not writing on this blog

Okay so I haven’t written on this blog in a very long time. Roughly a month and half. Whoopsies. In this post, I will try to make excuses.

1) I was too busy graduating high school. Because graduation was soooo difficult, especially seeing as I only took five classes this semester, three of which were in project mode (this means freetime), and one of the remaining two being choir. I certainly didn’t use this project-making time to have lunch at nice restaurants in the city. I was busy working so that I could be a graduate. Continue reading

On Procrastination and a Regular Audience

So I don’t actually avoid procrastination. I’m on a level of my own on this one. Like many other people, I fool myself into thinking that I work better under the pressure of a performance or essay happening the next day. Sometimes it actually pans out. I wrote My Abrupt Descent Into the Cesspit of Humanity  in 5 hours one night from 11 to 4 in the morning. It the single best piece of writing I have ever completed. Four hours, lots of caffeine, and no later edits. Sometimes that’s just the way things work. Maybe my brain is washed with panic hormones and is able to churn out a reasonable essay in the dead of night. Continue reading

Where Am I From? On Anonymity…

Oh, how I would love to answer that question. My hometown is intrinsic to my personality. It’s crafted me into who I am, and I love my neighbors and friends to hell and back. I also have a lot of jokes about my town that I’m sure readers would enjoy (one of my favorites is “___ is like a hippie’s armpit, earthy and unshaven”). But I live in such a small, specific little village that if someone from home read this, my identity would easily be guessed from any mention of its name.

Here's the sunset, anonymous islands in the distance.

Here’s the sunset, anonymous islands in the distance.

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