I wrote a blog post similar to this last year. I guess time didn’t really change anything.
The white screen, the flashing bar, the total emptiness in my brain. What do I write
about? What should I say? There are simultaneously so many and so few things to talk
about. I read plenty of writing, blog posts, poetry, works of fiction. How do all these
people come up with such deep thoughts? What is it that their brains possess that mine
lacks? I sometimes struggle to put together sentences, while from their pens flow an
endless stream of knowledge and wisdom, commentary about social issues and
discourses on philosophies. And from a few supremely gifted ones, even comedy and
wit spring forth. I have none of that. Half the time, I can’t even put words on a page,
much less wax eloquent. But maybe there’s still hope. I once read that a fiction author
only peaks sometime in their early 50’s. I’m only 19, I guess I can only go up from
here… right? Who knows? Maybe this self-reflective blog post is my peak. Only time
will tell. Check back in next year to see how 20-year-old me is faring. Maybe by then I’ll
have a three-paragraph blogpost chock full of wisdom for you to enjoy. But until then,
this is all you get, just be thankful that’s it’s not a list of quotes about fall.
Written by Josh A.
April is the cruelest month, breeding/ Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing/ Memory and desire, stirring/ Dull roots with spring rain.
-T. S. Eliot
R2: The Rice Review
Rice University's undergraduate literary magazine. Here you can find event updates, monthly writing contest winners, and opinions by the R2 staff on what's new, interesting, or subject to discussion in the literary and arts world.