self-deprecation is the new confidence

Here I am sitting amongst a pile of brightly colored hoodies I attempted to wear in vain for an autumn that refuses to stay. My iPhone 4S has become significantly outdated just days ago and I had to restart my 5 year old laptop 4 times just to get the screen to turn on.

I would have gone to blog at the Starbucks around the corner, or better yet, the trendy coffee shop a few blocks farther that I can't remember the name of and can't afford anyway. However, since my laptop lasts no more than 15 minutes without being plugged in and I refuse to be that awkward-Asian-girl who stands and stares waiting for the generosity of a stranger who gestures to the available outlet under his stool

here I am

amongst my hoodies

on a bed that belongs to a girl I met once...

writing a book.

Well, I suppose I've already WRITTEN the book since I have pages and pages of a word document full of my last year which somehow seems so empty when typed in Times New Roman 12pt. font...so I put a few more words in bold to convince myself that something exciting really did happen and the world really would want to read about it on paper.

Or on their iPad...or iPhone 5...or whatever that off-brand thing Barnes&Noble sells is called.

In a typical fit of procrastination, I scrolled through my Facebook newsfeed, refreshing several times, hoping to be inspired or distracted when I found a quite comical status update in which a person with a normal job wrote about an interaction with a client.

"You should write a book" was the first comment on the status...no doubt from some suburban mother or misguided, urban lesbian (I couldn't tell from the thumbnail photo).

And when I scoffed and thought "Yeah, right"...I remembered exactly what I was doing.

writing a book.

So, of course, I began to imagine hundreds of young sassy (probably very attractive) gay boys reading the comments on my posts and scoffing just like me.

And having just removed my cardigan (which I thought would be the weather appropriate answer) to throw on top of my hoodies

I'm wondering, yet again, if I'm the one who has it wrong.

Maybe when people say "You should write a book", it's like when people say, "You can always do porn."

No, you can't.

I mean, sure, you always could, but that doesn't mean anyone is every going to watch it and SURELY nobody pays for that anymore.

So, is me sitting on a bed putting together a manuscript just some self-made masturbatory porno I'm going to throw out into the world? (There isn't one of those, don't Google it. Please.)

Do I have any business being in porn?

I mean, writing?

Well, America, since I have just re-read the first 20 pages of Sex and the City, which the Wall Street Journal called "A breath of fresh air" 15 years ago...

Yeah, I got this.

In fact, I'm more certain than ever I'm going to make somebody a lot of money someday.

So refill my coffee and turn on the AC because my cardigan is going back on and I'm getting down to business! I don't care what anybody says, it's autumn and I'm writing a book DAMMIT.

Oh GOD I should have bought a Mac,

TJB: Making It