I am a sucker for those generic pictures on here with handwritten declarations of feelings or love.

I can’t bring myself to reblog them because I feel like such a sap, but I always like them every time they come across my dash.

I just always imagine someone needing to write down whatever spurned feeling they had in a moment in a hurried, passionate fashion on any scrap of paper they could find. And then that was it. The secret was out in a way that was so vague it’s frustrating. But out just enough to de-pressurize the emotions that were overflowing in your chest.

It gets crowded in there, I know.

"Nothing can save
you
except
writing.
It keeps the walls
from
failing."

Charles Bukowski (via tangledmermaidhair)

"You don’t write because you want to say something; you write because you’ve got something to say."

F. Scott Fitzgerald (via beccabrilliance)

(Source: hermicent)

I don’t know how to sit in this skin and feel at home because it’s not as easy as it sounds and it’s not as easy as everyone says it is or is it. I don’t want to be a member of a culture where it is important to consume in order to fit a standard.

Here is the part where you stop listening to me and dismiss me as some kind of rah rah hippy because I’m talking about how “society” has “standards” that I feel forced to “conform” to.

But the funny thing is I try so hard not to define myself that in doing so I am inherently defined. 

I want to be a columnist. Like a social commentary columnist.

Please enjoy this breakdown of my past dreams and thought process:

• Fashion journalist? I figured out I don’t care enough. I do like fashion, but I really don’t have anything much to say about it besides Shit, why don’t I own those varicose vein causing heels (and I say that in the most loving way), or What is the world coming to, that is ugly. Everyone in that world takes everything very seriously and I just don’t think I could handle it. I’m already wound so tightly.
• Music journalist? This was a phase when I wanted to marry Tyson Ritter. So I figured if I become a music journalist, I could get close enough to him to make him fall in love with me. I love music, and music history, but I wouldn’t want to make this my job because it would take the soul out of it for me. Swear to god Almost Famous is the dream but the world is changing and it will never be like that again.

That being said, entertainment news doesn’t matter. I care, but I don’t care enough to do it forever. I’d be rolling my eyes going WHAT’S IT ALL FOR. So I want to talk about things, in a humorous/serious way, that matters and that people can relate to and understand.

Do you ever feel like you’ve found what you’re meant to do on this earth?

I honestly feel like that every time I write. If I’m writing an article, if I’m just writing endless strings of meaningless chatter and adjectives, or even if I’m just writing a paper and I’ve crafted the perfect thesis statement. 

Nothing feels better.

I’m a paid writer.

I got hired yesterday. It’s a new up and coming insert/magazine/online thing. It’s like the new Metromix of Honolulu.

I get $25 every article + picture I do. It’s a weekly thing. I’ll post the link when the website is up and running, which should be on July 7th, or so I’m told.

This job isn’t really about the money. I’m still looking for a job that fulfills that requirement. But for now, it’s opening up my future, and for the first time in my life, I can finally see a real future forming that isn’t just a dream.

It’s amazing. Someone is paying me to write. Someone is paying me to do what I love on a weekly basis.