I'm a lot better at tweeting than I am at blogging, lately. Sowwy.
...I was just about to write something really witty, I'm sure, and then this happened
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| ^ that was my healthy veggie dinner |
So then this happened
and then I remembered that this happened earlier
So now I'm actually pretty happy, although I dropped my dinner on the ground and it looked like a massive rabbit hurl.
I've gotta tell you, I'm really busy this semester. I'm taking the largest course load I've ever had, I have a job and an internship and, like I complained about last time, a whole lotta art homework.
On the plus side, my house Halle Berry is still adorable, my earthly possessions haven't burned in a fire, I have a nice mom who sends me cards
and an especially nice friend in Tokyo who writes me letters, too.
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| Yeah I blurred my address. U mad?!? |
And then there's that Milky Way that I got in Astronomy. Yeah.
I guess it's just about the little things. Little things can make a day really awful or really awesome, if you let them. You've got to figure out which is more important, being angry or being happy, and then choose it.
I don't think there's ever a time when you are helpless against your emotions.
I'm not saying that you always have to be cold and emotionless. And I'm not saying that they can't be overpowering sometimes. But I'm saying that when you're having a crap day and you break out the gallon bucket of choco choco chunk ice cream and cry your little eyes out, you're choosing that. That's cool. But don't forget to choose to be happy again, eventually.
I dunno. Never think that you have no say over your emotions. They're probably one of the few things in your life that you do have control over.
ANYWAY.
Guys.
I don't know.
Not much is happening on my end. I'm just a kid sitting here eating ice cream and writing a blog that less than fifty people in the entire world care about. Maybe that's not a big deal.
Still, I like to think that it's helping something. Maybe you, but more likely me. It makes me think about all of the reasons that a person would want to write anything, from a novel to a memoir to a blog post, and why we think we have anything to say or contribute to the world around us. Makes me wonder why I write, why I consider myself a writer when I don't actually write things beyond forum speaker bios for my university's website and, on occasion, posts for this blog.
What's a writer? Are you born that way? Is there some writer gene that skips around in gene pools? If you were once a writer, are you always a writer? Does a twenty-something's personal blog really make a difference?
You tell me.
Happy autumn, daingerous ones.
Oh, I forgot a gif.
Oh, I forgot a gif.
I think that writing--along with art, or photography or music or dancing or whatever--encompasses an inner part of ourselves that we can't really access in any other way.
ReplyDeleteI think we're writers, but not just writers; artists, but not just artists. We're everything that we can do, not just one or the other. And we're so struck by life that we can't help but do something about it. If we were to try to forget or suppress what we can do, it'd be like trying to forget or suppress that deeper part of ourselves.
In answer to your question: I don't know if your blog makes a difference to a lot of people. On the other hand, I'm willing to bet that it makes a big difference to you, and to that part of yourself that you can't access in any other way than through writing.