i’ve been thinking, lately, that being in your mid-twenties is kind of like going through puberty all over again. less in that hormonal, physical way, but also in an overwhelming, too-big-for-my-psychic-kid-clothes kind of way. but instead of that girl in your class suddenly having boobs, it’s that girl in your class suddenly having kids. instead of feeling a mix of resent and shame about my ignorance of pop culture references, it’s about my inability to figure out taxes. instead of stumbling on my words because i haven’t evolved from saying “freakin” to f*ckin”, i stumble because i don’t know whether to say “i’m going home” or “i’m going to my parents house.”
meanwhile i imagine this blog will have to go through puberty too, if i am to keep writing in it. after all, i spend more time with dead people than alive ones these days. there are very few fun sensory details to report, unless you count the fun sensation of balancing a pile of books between my hands and my chin. instead of impressions that gain shape and form through the process of translating them into english and putting them on the page, all i have clanking around in my head now are half-baked arguments that involve bland profundities like people just want to be good and esoteric facts like chiang kai-shek was a scorpio. so…bear with me. things might get weird.
hog maw 