So much for looking forward to senior year being the time of my life.
I’m sure the last hurrah of high school is much more of an enigma than most people care to admit, but those who’ve already lived through it didn’t also have to deal with the anxiety of a global pandemic, or the extreme isolation that comes with it. I’ll be applying for colleges without the comfort of summer camp, the annual senior night at a theme park, or whatever else is considered a classic high school experience, something I may never see fully for myself.
The real way to make money on Medium is to write stories about how to make more on Medium so desperate people will feel pressured into changing their work into a marketable product and try to follow your path to success and only further lead them down the hole of believing that their work needs to be changed in order to be of value, but still believe that you are right so they clap for your article and you make money off their desperation!
For the love of all that is holy, whoever is reading this, keep writing the way you uniquely do. Get your work out there no matter how well it does. Someone will find your work and love it. Leave this capitalistic bs in the garbage where it belongs (yes, even though we're all trying to make money).
Today, January 7th, 2021, 1:33 a.m., I hauled myself out of my room after scrolling through Twitter, then Instagram, then Twitter, then Instagram again to make macaroni and cheese. I didn’t have the resolve to leave my bed for around three hours despite the fact that I was starving, but I’m not new to that concept. Neurodivergence, baby.
I hobbled over, Smeagol-like, to pour rotini into my pot of boiling water like I had never seen food before. It’s hard to pick yourself up after hours of destructive behavior, but it’s necessary. If I don’t make the macaroni and cheese…
I was, as far-fetched as it sounds, hot-glue-ing various childhood trinkets to a sparkly purple box when I realized that most art takes up a lot of materials. I’ve been drawing since before I could write my name, and hence my room is stacked high with war-torn sketchbooks, spiral-bounds, and endless sheets of printer paper. Many artists share this story.
Also, I went through a lot of hot glue sticks to make that box.
It got me wondering — how much waste have I produced as an artist in my lifetime? I always use reusable cotton pads, silicon ziplock bags…
I can safely say that I am addicted to offering my opinions online. Don’t get me wrong, I am a very busy person. I’m like that white dad on vacation: the trunk is packed to the absolute brim with things that I may or may not need, but I’m still grabbing the bungee cord I’ve had since 1987 so I can strap on that one extra thing that yes, Barb, we will need. Just in case!
For me, it’s Instagram — particularly the story feature.
I always turn the background all one color — usually a light blue, pink, or…
High school senior who always has something to say. Activist, artist, musician, lifelong Girl Scout…and writer, of course. She/her.