I’ve been writing in my journal daily for at least 1-2 months now, and it’s quite trippy. In there go lots of great thoughts and stuff, but then when I jump back to my blog, I’m not entirely sure what to write. Did I already write about that, or is it just in the book that none other shall see?
I was shocked when I checked today and saw that I hadn’t written here for 2 weeks. It didn’t seem nearly so long. I’ve already written about all my experiences and revelations. Well, to myself at least.
And not just that. Talking to various ppl, it now seems like when I have an idea to put here, I’ve already discussed/written about it 2-3 times, and no one wants to read the same thing over again. On the plus side, my writing continues to improve, I think. Just a second ago, I caught myself in another rhetorical question. “a bit” and “a lot” also come up often in my writing, as I just corrected another. And my sentences seem to repeat the same subject. In this case, “I”; in others, “Jenkins”. My writing has become quite formulaic over the years, and I’m trying to add variations to it. Writing should emphasize what matters, and bring attention to major points. Diction needs to matter, and I wonder sometimes if I manage to pull that off. And I think my transitions suck too.

If you have a facebook, please take the opportunity to join “I Pwned Frank Li!”; I’m anticipating this call won’t do a whole lot, though, since those who read this likely are connected enough in cyberspace to have already done so if they wanted. ‘Neways, the number of ppl who can truthfully testify to that is less than the number of things Mrs. Scott hasn’t done.

I’ve picked up on listening to NPR while driving. A couple weeks ago, I was listening to a program, where some lady was talking about her Chinese-American family. Something along the lines of,
“My family lived in suburban USA, and for the most part, we lived like most other families. Except food. My Chinese heritage seemed entirely tied to it. I didn’t know much Chinese, but what I did know was composed mostly of food words, and every week, we’d eat Chinese at least once.”
There have been few moments when I’ve watched or listened to my life in third-person (though Willie has been demonstrating several “Kevinisms” recently), but I could swear that that lady was narrating my life. Not in the creepy “The number 23” way, or “Stranger than Fiction” sort of way, but curious enough to make me realize that it’s not just my family that’s like this. Have no idea if you’ve ever had a moment like this. Heck, I’m sure that you have no idea what a weird feeling it was. But it was crazy.

I’ll story blog very soon, promise.

One reply on “Metawriting”

Even Ms. Marvin’s sister’s adopted Chinese baby eats Chinese food. It’s in the blood.

sweet modifiers and possessives

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