Pretty and Literate

“I can’t explain what I mean. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d feel like it”

J.D Salinger, Catcher in the Rye

I am not good a good writer. Disclaimer.

I asked an author once if she had always wanted to be an author and how she became one. She said she just knew—bit vague. So, should I just know that I am pretty shit at it? Sure.

I am not going to pretend I am an incredibly
                                        intellectual,
                                                 well-spoken,
                                                          educated elitist, but I will try and speak as clearly as I can without seeming condescending or like a total asshole.

Most likely the latter will happen.

Hopefully some of it will make sense.

I can never say exactly what I am trying to say and I envy people who can. I know people who write amazing poetry just because they are bored and saw a bird on the side of the road… they magically turn into fucking Robert Frost. I do my best but it typically ends up being edited too heavily so the paper isn’t even mine anymore, or it is so half assed that it appears to be written by a freshman trying to get a passing grade in English 101 (that was me). I end up hating the process altogether because I know the outcome won’t be anything great.

If I could write it all down (my thoughts that is) maybe it would be boring, maybe it would suck so hard no one would read it and if they did it wouldn’t make any sense.

Maybe it won’t.

I know the blogging world is oversaturated. Here is another one. Read it if you want.