After a wonderful but short meeting with Carolyn, a Vassar English Major who's into creative writing and great literature, I think I've figured out why I blog. I'm lonely.
I must have babbled on the whole time we spent together, and dominated any conversation on work-in-progress, story, style, authors, books read, books to read, etc. Maybe because attempts at igniting a writers group on campus have failed–there are only about three serious writers aside from myself who can and do put some time into it, and I've taken just about every English class there and haven't the nerve to move on to the next level, but it's like I'm either bottled up waiting for the next fool to pull out the stopper or I explode onto the blogging format of Spinning.
Really need to get a life or make up an imaginary friend.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
You don’t need an imaginary friend–YOU HAVE ME.
And I think that everyone is lonely, and you’re just earnest enough to admit it. That’s what makes your blog and YOU so great: you’re so earnest. And funny.
Sorry, was just feeling sorry for myself there a minute. Actually, I’m a loner by nature anyway but do admittedly thirst for some literary discussion upon occasion.
There is an importance in being earnest, I suppose. If you cannot be bert.
And after thinking about it, and estimating the general dimensions of the cafeteria and your silhouette in the doorway in comparison to the first time we met there, you definitely have grown much taller.