August 17, 2012
Personal blogs, often begun with the condemning letter “I,” have always been, to me, narcissistic, inane, and, bluntly, boring. To make up for this, I get technical with my writing, trying to spice up sentences with unheard-of adjectives. To make up for this, I stay away from personal blogs all together. Facebook makes up for the narcissism, and my poetry and art blog has become my favorite child.
But, for yet another chance, I'm going to submit to a personal blog. It's called “Strings” for two reasons. First, because I've transferred my year and a half internship with the Pilot for a freelancing, aka, a “stringer,” position when I moved to Boone in May, and because this will be a good reminder to me, like a red string tied to my pointer finger.
Here, I'll write about the farm that I'm working at and quests incited by school (Appalachian State University – studying English) or my own curiosity. I'll write about life, specific to this pristine topography and color-wild town. There's little I loathe more than wasted words, published or otherwise, so I vow to make this worth your while and withstanding of my father's cool critique. I want to indulge in simple moments in order to make my life worth writing for.