I got nothing…

People have told me I should “write” for the last four decades. Teachers, friends and my excruciatingly optimistic sister have eagerly encouraged me to put my thoughts to paper.

I am not a content producer, I am a content consumer. I read – a lot. The problem is, I can never remember where and what I read – which makes me a likely plagiarist. I can NEVER remember if that infrequent flash of funny was something I just created – or read somewhere else.

Plagiarism sucks. Plagiarists suck even more.

I am an inadvertent plagiarist, and this is only one reason I don’t write. I am also inexplicably fascinated with random, irrelevant shit that nobody else cares about so I have very little of interest to share with you. My life experience has been normal, safe, and predictably American. I am a middle-aged, overweight white lady with the appearance of a common housefrau – and have been since I was twelve. Moreover, I curse too much. I am acutely aware of this lazy habit and the fact that the curse words I choose are merely substituting for my limited vocabulary.

I adore:

  • Jenny Lawson (TheBlogess)
  • Fran Lebowitz – a writer that doesn’t write.
  • And many, many more that I might come back to add in an edit.

You should go read them instead.

Probably now.

You’ve managed to find your way here so the rest of your day is shot anyway, right? You might as well fill your head with good writing so it won’t be a total loss.

Bye now.

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