When it comes to doing things for myself, I have this terrible habit of not being able to finish. That’s what she said. My God, this already took a turn.
Every few weeks, (what I assume to be) inspiration spits in my face and (what probably isn’t) the universe sends me ~good vibes~ to start writing. I’m not sure why, when, or how, but writing has alway served as a positive outlet for me to hash out chunks of my feelings. It tested my grammatical prowess, creativity for sensory details, and ability to, well, bullshit. Potty word count: 1.
Today, the faux-inspiration came knocking on my psyche and here I am: Attempting to attempt.
Recently, I’ve found myself experiencing life’s many highs and lows, peaks and pits, ebbs and flows, YAAAS KWEENs and NAAAAH BITCHes. Potty word count: 2.
I credit a stunt in the development of my *~*angsty*~* teen years for this seemingly delayed and extensively prolonged episode of PMS [psychotic mood shifts] for this. I think I was too afraid of my parents to actually visibly demonstrate stomping-my-feet-and-slamming-my-bedroom-door during the common years that one would do so, so naturally, my body decided to take it out on my 23-year-old-should-be-kind-of-an-adult self.
Cue the re-re-re-rebirth of holabohla.com. This ~blog~ is intended to help me cope and combat personal feelings of negativity, while also cultivate and celebrate the occasional positives.
I have no idea how long I’ll be able to keep up with it, nor do I know the specifics of when I’ll be posting, how frequently I’ll be doing so, or what I’ll be talking about. But, what I do know is that I have a lot circulating in my mental space right now that I would like to aggressively (and some days, pleasantly) hash out on my keyboard.
Feel free to stick around, if you’d like. I can’t promise anything too revolutionary or exciting. Just a whole lot of me talking to myself, most likely. Could be great. Could be terrible. Who friggin’ knows, man.