At the fruitful age of nineteen, I’ve found myself at the ultimate precipice of having to define what it is I want to do for the rest of my life. I’ll be transferring to a four-year university in the Fall, and I pretty much need to have decided what I want to do by then.
Which is slightly terrifying.
With my love for english overshadowing any other class subject, I’ve decided to try my hand at websites like this- websites that allow even the most amateur writers like myself to practise writing, to make connections, to open up the door of vulnerability and see if maybe–just maybe–someone might enjoy reading what it is we have to say.
And in case you were even a teensy weensy bit curious, here’s a little extra about me:
- I did dance for five years, and color guard for all of high school, but I somehow can’t manage to walk on a flat surface without tripping?
- I have no interest in regular chick flicks, but I could watch Hallmark Christmas romances all year long. All. Year.
- Until the very day my dad yelled at me at the top of his lungs, insisting it was a stupid idea for someone who doesn’t live in a big city (he did have a point, Virginia zoos aren’t exactly booming tourist destinations), I wanted to be a zoo keeper for all of my childhood. Sometimes I still do.
- I have an obsession with cute, lazy-day outfits and glasses (in case you’re wondering why that’s such a big deal, here’s a hint: I don’t need glasses. I legitimately went to Claire’s in the mall to buy fake glasses. If you see me walking around wearing glasses, it’s all a lie. Now, you’re the only ones who know that lol, I’ve thus far successfully fooled my entire college mwahaha).
- I’ve owned everything from turtles and snakes, to rabbits and rats, to pigs and goats, to cats and dogs. Our largest pig weighed in at over a thousand pounds.
- I kind of… actually… enjoyed The Scarlet Letter… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maybe it’s just because the rest of our choices were worse, who knows.
- My children will be raised off of Disney movies. Dear future husband: there’s no stopping me.
- Babies freak me out. They’re like little aliens who cry and poop and cry some more, and I just- I can’t guys, I don’t know what to do with them. Toddlers? Sure! Babies? Not so much. Here’s praying everybody’s right when they say “It’ll be different when they’re your own”.
- I don’t cry in front of people. (I don’t even cry when I’m upset; no, I cry when I’m frustrated, so then it looks like I’m upset, when actually I’m just frustrated and now I’m angry at myself for crying in the first place because it wasn’t even that big a deal and I mean worse things could’ve happened right and this is stupid why are you even crying Jordan?! *Anybody else get this inner dialogue? Just me?*)
- I’m really bad at listing things when someone asks. 6:30 in the morning when no one was around? I would’ve easily rattled off twenty oh-so-special facts about me-oh-my! But now, here I sit… trying to come up with one more thing for this list…