I used to lay awake in my bed wondering what I’d be like in my twenties. Now that I am here, I’m not sure what to do first. The thing people often tell you about your twenties are that you spend most of them discovering who you want to be. I want to change that suggestion- I know basically what I want. It is more a matter, where do I go from here? This revolution-taking place in the communication world is exciting, yet for those of us who dreamed of writing, the communication world is pretty unsteady. I know that I do not want to stare at a computer screen the rest of my life. I think it is sexy to read a newspaper. There is something classic and beautiful about flipping though a fashion magazine, a weird fulfillment and excitement when W appears in my mailbox. I don’t want to give that up. The fact that I must write in moleskine notebooks just to retype on a word document says something about my commitment to an industry that will die on paper. A world I never got to experience, complete disappointment. I won’t budge I feel like the computer sucks out the rawness of a writer. Stripping my life down ink to page- Nothing better. For example right now total cramp in my hand. I am not stubborn, clearly I blog- but it is different. Two separate entities. The romance, the allure of writing is ‘lost in translation’ on screen.
