Intro to my Brain

Hello, interweb!


     I've finally realized the irony in being someone who claims to love writing, yet never writes. There's also a sad irony in being a writer who prefers script & paper yet owns a blog. 

     However, as honest and heartfelt as I intend my writing to be on this here blog, not one living soul will ever read my private journals & live to tell the tale. Hell, perhaps not a living soul will read these online posts, either. The writing isn't for the public though, it's for myself. I just put it up for public critique as to further challenge my abilities. Maybe to feel like I'm being more honest with the world. That way if anyone ever gets upset that I haven't told them something, I can just be like "Well, it's on my blog...so you could have read it if you'd wanted to...". Muahaha.

Now back to my infallibly dull teenage journal. My journal entries focused more on "I can't believe I tried so hard to impress people I no longer speak with." variety rather than the "I can't believe I got drunk and hooked up with that guy." type.

OK, so there is one story about me getting super drunk during Spring Break in high school, and jumping between two train cars that were moving (slowly, but surely.) But this is an intro-to-my-mind post, so we'll save that post for a rainy day. (Hey, I said I wrote about dull topics back then, not that I was a dull person in general!)

     It's funny how when you're in high school, the days drag by so much more slowly than adulthood. Or how, after looking back, I realize I used to write about the most trivial things that I'd never care to remember...but all the things I've done that I'm proud of the past couple of years have no written record. And that breaks my heart a wee bit.

     I did, at one point, have an online journal dedicated to my travels abroad in Ireland last January. However, this trip was for a college course, and one of the "less-academically-motivated" girls within my group got a hold of my blog link, and was sneakily trying to pass my journal entries off as her own. Good news is that I blocked her off my page...bad news is I blocked myself off my own page in the process... *sigh*


    Seriously though, why is it that I have to be concerned about ANOTHER GROWN ADULT passing off my work for her own!? I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that maturity is a state of being, not a measurement of age. Also, that certain individuals are just eternally immature rather than just graceful beings with moments of unadulterated inhibition.