writer's manifesto

hello reader,

you might've stumbled upon this through one of my disclaimers (or maybe even a direct link). if you're a returning visitor on my blog, welcome back. if you're stumbling through my curated version of the world for the first time, welcome (to the) home (page). while i can't show you my xanga site from the early 2000's, i can assure you my blogging style continues to share similar themes almost two decades later; introspective af, infinite photos (+videos!), and perpetual change. 

but what this post is really meant for is to acknowledge how it's hard to have a blog without looking at least slightly self-absorbed. so i figure, let's put out all honesty on the table, assuming your attention span can keep up (cue: lose my breath, destiny's child). real talk, though. reading is an exercise, and not everyone regularly trains. enjoy my brain dump, as the following points are recurring themes i have on/offline, and apply to every update i plan to share. 

writing is one of the most narcissistic art forms. true to form, a writer puts thoughts on a page with the expectation that it is deserving of attention. maybe i should say 'published' writing instead. i grapple with this notion a lot, especially since i prefer conversations over monologues. 

writing online means ideas are carbonized in the air. meaning, as soon as you put your ideas out there, they join the endless sea of information, surfaced when the algorithms are in your favor. 

writing should be digestible and dissectible. i tend to write in long form on my blog, and that's a tricky approach in an attention-commodified reality. 

writing as a means of connecting. there's a special magic in intimately connecting with a piece of writing and meeting someone who can relate. 

[insert next writing epiphany here]

-- evelyn, this post is a work in progress. much like my writing.