Why, hello there.

Here's the deal: I've never been a very consistent person. I have a hard time with complacency and I don't do routines well. One unexpected consequence of this tiny flaw is an inability to keep up with my writing. A very large part of me wants to be able to tell you that I write every day. But I don't. I probably don't even write ever other day, and coming from someone who is devoting a large portion of her future to studying literature and writing, this is sad. It makes me sad. So, this is my solution. A website. A bargaining chip, if you will. If I have a proper platform (and a well designed one, at that) with which to share my writing, maybe I will do it more often. So here it is folks, the culmination of my entire Friday night. Bundled up in a shiny new package for your perusal (though, don't look too closely because there technically isn't anything to peruse, yet). 

A little explanation is in order: Virginia Woolf seeps into every part of my creative process. She has a penchant for evoking existential crises in me (mostly in a good way), and ever since I first read Mrs. Dalloway I cannot seem to shake her. In addition to her immense literary talent and overall bad-assery, Woolf has a way of characterizing the world that never ceases to inspire me:

Examine for a moment an ordinary mind on an ordinary day. The mind receives a myriad impressions — trivial, fantastic, evanescent, or engraved with the sharpness of steel. From all sides they come, an incessant shower of innumerable atoms;...Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.

"Modern Fiction" - Virginia Woolf, The Common Reader

These myriad impressions shape experience, mediating the world around us to create a collective sense of fragmentation. 

Sometimes I write in fragments. Sometimes I start in the middle of a story because it doesn't yet have a beginning. Sometimes I write incomplete sentences and poems without punctuation or cohesion and all my thoughts run together and sort of spill off the page. But life doesn't have punctuation. Experience isn't cohesive and it's the non-linearity of memory that shapes how we see the world. At least it shapes how I see the world. 

These are my myriad impressions. Let the atoms fall as they may.