i'm twenty-two. i just graduated with a BA in english and am going to grad school in the fall for publishing. i'm fervently passionate about literature and poetry but hardly write any of my own these days. i suppose i'm just soaking in my surroundings and experiences as fodder for future use, rather than being overly serious about my 'craft' and 'work' and whatnot-- i've had about enough of workshops and seminars and critiques for a while. all of which is to say, my journal is about my life as i see it: my mishaps, travels, illicit activities, fears, musings, and so forth. there isn't much commentary on pop culture and current events and the like-- i suppose i'm selfish in that way. i also try to steer clear of daily summaries (i.e, today i fed my fish and bought some shoes and went to the post office and yaddayadda) unless they're evocative or strike me in some way. basically, i attempt to write as though i don't have an audience-- that is, what i would want to remember or revisit rather than what i think others would want to know (so there's a tendency to not overexplain who people/places are when i mention them).
at the same time, i'm on a first-name basis with everyone on my friends list and prefer to think of them as multifaceted human beings instead of anonymous 'bloggers' (ps: i really hate that word). i'm not sure what sorts of people i prefer to have on my friends list until i find them. or they find me. so, yeah, hi.