It’s been three years since I tripped off a spiked joint. Nowadays, I’m into things I could have never imagined. I used to write instead of crying as a child and as a teenager, now I write to build something bigger.
When I was seventeen, I wrote a blog piece about a British TV show. It was my first blog post since opening up a childish Wordpress site to document my European travels. I only watched the pilot, but it was alright, and warm to the heart. I figured my audience, all ten of them, mostly family, would enjoy it. It was all about getting people to enjoy what I had to say, not about what I truly wished to say.
I wrote that blog called Kindness Is Magic, a piece of sappy shit I consider it nowadays, in thirty minutes at five AM in the morning during a restless night in that freshman year dorm room which stared over Astor Place and gave you a glimpse of all three of the bridges in Lower Manhattan. My roommate was asleep, his computer open in front of him so you couldn’t even see his face. I sent out a tweet to my hundred followers and tagged the creator of the show, Ricky Gervais.
When I was seventeen I made Ricky Gervais cry out of joy over something I wrote. When I was eighteen I was featured on Street Etiquette, for a review of this coffee table book they made called Slumflower that I wrote on my blog, as a “student of Indian descent” which made me sort of upset. I’m more than that, I thought at the time.
I kept up writing after that, but I’ve been fake for a long, long time, and everything I wrote beat around the bush. It’s tough to write anything good when you’re a pussy.
But that was then. Nowadays, the shit I write in my notebook on the subway gets me into the Nonfiction Master Class. I don’t really read much anymore, because I’m selfish enough as a twenty-year old to think that I can write better than these guys.
Which ain’t really true, but we all say stuff to ourselves to keep our spirits up.
When I needed to find a job last minute over the winter, it took me thirty minutes to get an interview. I wrapped that shit up in four days. When I needed to find a job with three days left in the semester, I got two in less than a week and a half. I got into photography three months ago, now I’m running two companies’ Instagrams and social media accounts and getting asked to do photoshoots. There’s a homie two years younger than me that asks me for photography and career advice like I’ve figured all my shit out. I’m about to takeover the Instagram for Williams and Sonoma. They’re all about weddings, which made me laugh when I heard it, but I figure the ladies might love it.
But fuck it, I’m speaking tongue in cheek. I’m just doing me.
Who would have ever thought, huh?
