The Current State of Affairs

It’s been quiet here, I know.

I’m adjusting to a post-Twitter social media life and part of that adjustment is my relationship to words. A couple of weeks into my indefinite sabbatical, I had a revelation about me and words. I used to love them, but consuming and wasting so many over thirteen years corrupted that love. I picked up language tics that weren’t my own. I filled up on a junk food diet that left no room for the hunger that drove me to books and articles and playing with words in my downtime. Hell, I even forgot how to put my own raw thoughts on a page without bracing for feedback.

That’s unacceptable. I don’t want to waste words anymore.

So I’m going back to basics. Journaling, which is harder than you think when you’ve spent a decade filtering your thoughts for fear of strangers’ reactions to them. Scribbling random thoughts in paper notebooks to recall how it feels to let the words pour without interference. Reading my favorite wordsmiths and pausing to admire the beauty in perfect song lyrics.

I don’t want to force it. When I come here to share my thoughts, I want the words spilling out of me quicker than I can capture them; not because I’m manically pumping from a dry well praying for a drip.

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a girl named rob

I used to be "skinny black girl." I'm now a slender woman on the other side of 35 with no new moniker who is not quite interested in writing under her given name. Still writing my life, a day (or some months) at a time. Also, still black.

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