Why.

May 16, 2012

I’m weird.

 

Not in the sense that I eat glue, or dye my hair blue or collect action figures.

 

I’m weird because weird things happen to me, therefore those weird things define me.

 

All my life, people have told me I need to write a book. I like to write, but the idea of sitting down and writing 200 pages of single spaced bullshit doesn’t appeal to me. I also have never known where to start. However the longer I wait, the more I forget the stories that need to be told. I am 19 years old, I am nothing particularly special. However- my stories, they are not normal, they need to be told.

I don’t know how to say no to opportunity. To me- an opportunity is a good story to tell my friends. I don’t care about school- I care about the reactions I get from my grades. I don’t care about much- I know i’ll succeed, I work really hard… for whatever reason. I chase adventure, I chase stories, crazy things happen to me because I let them. I don’t know what I want to be- but “boring” isn’t an option.

Most recently the  craziest thing that has ever happened to me happened. This is the story that brings together all of my stories, possibly the best place to start my book. I don’t have time to write a book, i’ll write a blog.

mackenzie.newcomb@yahoo.com'
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