Goal
I need to write a story. My intense lack of creativity or lighthearted thoughts make me feel like I’ve lost grips with my former self. I actually got my Tumblr exactly two years ago on my 19th birthday. For the first 6 months all I did was write long soliloquies about the world from my perspective. Granted, my world was pretty small (I devoted like 5 entries to my tank of Sea Monkeys that I got for my birthday). While I don’t miss writing posts about completely useless things, I do miss the way I could squeeze long, funny, descriptive stories about the most mundane things.
Story-writing used to be my THING. I want my thing back. =]
Example of the Old Bekka?
Here:
Reason #56 to Carry an Oversized Purse
By Bekka Rogers, Spring 2010
Along with being able to carry small dogs (because who doesn’t love a purse that may potentially smell like dog urine?) and the ability to carry everything you may possibly need in every situation, the perks of using a purse that’s bigger than a large baby are normally overlooked. No one seems to appreciate the magnificence of carrying a purse that can hold a book, my make-up, money, AND a change of shoes, but today my choice in handbag has been vindicated.
Matt Hurst and I were walking from College Church to Ludwig after making a necessary trip to Starbucks. I was holding my grande white chocolate mocha and raving about how warm my hands were and how crazy Matt was for only getting a tall mocha (“I mean, I can fit ALL of BOTH of my hands on my cup”) when suddenly the sidewalk jumped up to take me captive.
Matt said that I looked like I was flying, it was such a splendid fall. My foot caught an unsightly crevice and all of my momentum thrust my entire body forward as I plummeted toward the pavement. It was a sight to see. My grande white chocolate mocha flew out of my hands and on to the unsuspecting grass and I landed belly-first on the sidewalk and slid forward a tad.
For all who were wondering, reason #56 to carry an over-sized purse is that they may actually save your life, or in my case, your face. My purse landed right under my chest, protecting my beautiful visage from the damage of being slammed into the pavement. Unfortunately, my jeans and my knees did not make it through the incident without harm (a hole in my left knee—jeans and leg—and a scruff mark on my right knee—jeans and leg), but my purse survived the impact and the slide into home without any injury. It was a beautiful thing.
I need some big band-aids.
Goodnight world.
