Can You Hear Me Now?

What are my intentions? Well, let me be upfront. No matter how hard I try, I will never remember to write in this thing on even a weekly basis. I can hardly remember to pack my lunch or grab it before I run out the door to jump in the car of whichever friend I have guilted into driving me to school that day (if any of you are reading, just wanted to throw a thanks again out there!) But there is one thing I can promise you: I will utilize the first person with pride.

I am so sick of "one must" and "a person can" and "infer" and "demonstrate" and all the words that are slowly, but surely, causing me to clench my teeth when I sleep. I blame my English upbringing. In AP Language and Composition (the class I took last year), we analyzed the eloquence of Hawthorne or the unique style of Dickens or some other dead contributor to my homework load. As I wrote about the works from these truly great writers, I would lose the personality in my own words. I stopped writing as I would speak. That's all writing is supposed to be, right? The words we say, thrown (or perhaps a more graceful, purposeful verb) on a page so more than those within my immediate company can hear what I have to say. But, as I wrote, I wrote with detachment, callousness. Off of a white blank page, callous is one of the last words I would use to describe myself. Hoarder, Narcissist, and Cocky come way, way before Callous. I refuse to portray myself as anything but who I am.

After all is said and all is done, words remain; etching gravestones, decorating love letters, personalizing checks, we leave behind what we wish future generations could have heard us say. So readers, here's to writing with feeling, with passion, with wit and with spark. Here's to leaving something for others to Leaf Through.