Do I want a car? I just chose not to have one for financial, environmental, and personal goals' sake. I am attached to the idea of becoming a cyclist and pedestrian. But...
One day you’ll learn. And maybe that one day will be an accumulation of several fleeting moments. Little whispers that float through your brain as fast as sound until they create a catchy little song you can’t forget.
I want a blog chock full of vulnerability and to raise the post number with content that feels genuine and as open as a book can be; and I also want to get a job. Are the two opposing?
I’m getting distracted.
Life seems rosy. Of course I can do this writing thing. I’ve got ideas. People like them. I like writing.
It’s as if my second interviewer saw through me and said “Let me show you a reflection of what kind of writer you want to be.”
There’s something about expressing to people who don’t know you the best (or maybe at all) that you feel like a failure. It’s a certain, scary brand of vulnerability. You want to put your best foot forward, but sometimes that would mean inactivity because you feel you have exactly zero good feet.