i want to write. i want to write a short story. i want to write poetry. a novel is too long. short, simple, concise. truth authenticity honesty. but would i be too honest? would too much of me show up? and then people would really see inside, and thats scary. i think too many real events would come out, too much of the bitterness that surrounds certain people. lots of people. more than i realize. <\/p>\n

i don’t like people who brag on their own papers. insert snotty hahaha here. “i tied it together quite nicely in my paper.”<\/p>\n

everyone is antsy. four people are bouncing their legs around in the class. i’m not too that point yet. <\/p>\n

i wonder if i could write something decent. something publishable. i have no motivation. my life is just like everyone elses’. <\/p>\n

i’m really bruised from soccer. i’ll be glad to play tennis tomorrow night. <\/p>\n

ha. so my paper wasn’t wasn’t due til midnight tonight. oh well. it’s already done. i wouldn’t have minded having a little extra time. <\/p>\n

i wish it didn’t take so much effort for me to be clean. not like i don’t take showers clean, but keep my room clean.<\/p>\n

oh boy. <\/p>\n

i wish i sounded intellectual and i wonder if the people in class think that i just sound retarded and talk without a purpose.<\/p>\n

so much of me wants to get the hell out of orlando and find some place to live thats on the coast. a coast. any coast. somewhere with the sea breeze.<\/p>\n

books people recommended<\/u>
\nfall on you knees
\nelizabeth gravers – unravelling
\njane hamilton
\nahab’s wife<\/strike> (too long)
\njudith ortiz caufer a woman in front of the sun<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

i want to write. i want to write a short story. i want to write poetry. a novel is too long. short, simple, concise. truth authenticity honesty. but would i be too honest? would too much of me show up? and then people would really see inside, and thats scary.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[62],"class_list":["post-66","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1DIlZ-14","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/66","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=66"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/66\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=66"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=66"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lindsaykeegan.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=66"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}