1. This is all part of the "quarter life crisis", of picking up bits and pieces of childhood in hopes that what had worked then will work now. Dancing, singing, playing in the dirt, making up stories, writing.
2. Writing is therapeutic to a lonely soul. And who isn't lonely when the headphones come off, and Edward Maya stops dictating how you should feel? When friends walk out the door, and the only thing you see is the computer screen, black and white words in Times New Roman, the few things that really belong to you, their intended meaning?
3.The most potent cure for my personal loneliness, or rather, one of the less destructive cures, is to talk to myself. I assume most people probably refrain from talking to themselves in public in order to create less confusion. To save my roommate some confusion but still maintain some level of sanity, I must resort to writing down the chatter in my head silently.
4. My biological sister separated at birth, who has read almost all my journals and diaries, also has a blog. Since I don't write to her nearly as much as I would like, this blog will keep her updated.
5. Regardless of how life changing it would be to take creative writing with the Great Joe Hurka and listen to the story of how his dog "humped him and would. Not. Stop." first hand, reading my work aloud in front of fellow Tufts folks doesn't sound too appealing. Blogging will hopefully continue in lieu of that class, which was supposed to save a pathetic Math major from forgetting how to write in coherent sentences. QED.
6. Instead of mathematical proofs, essays arguing for/against the existence of God, I want to write about beautiful things. May these posts be a reminder to me, and to whoever happens to stumble across my blog, of how much we have to be grateful for...