Blank pages

Blank pages are fightening, intimidating. I draw little butterflies on them to make them a little friendlier.

Sometimes I feel really stereotypical. I just completed my studies for two English degrees in college. What have I done since graduation?

I read.

I got a degree in journalism and a degre in writing. Now what am I doing?

Writing.

Why?

To "find" myself.

ha, ha, ha.

I am a brown paper bag.

It is liberating though. To write and thing and feel. God, it feels good to feel, even if I feel wasteful, even if I feel like garbage. For so long I was too busy to feel. With school and work, papers to write, books to read, news to keep up with, who has time for life? Who has time for emotion? For a personality? And I keep coming back to this--that is why I am writing--to finally, after four years of yuppie education, it is my time. But life still contains so many blank pages, and I am so impatient to get to know me. I'll fill up my whole damn life in a day and get nowhere. That is not why I started this project. I am always so uncertain about spelling project. A G or a J? Though I know well that it is a J. Or a G...