The fussy, almost fretfully reserved voice I've adopted here on E2 is probably a legacy of my Catholic schooling. I want very badly to be liked here. And the very first essays I ever wrote were an angry nun's punish assignments.
Every time I prepare a writeup, I can feel the doleful eyes of Jesus upon me, daring me to wound him further with a text that will only be nuked.
I'm sorry Jesus. I can't help it if I don't want to write factuals anymore. It's just too much pressure.
Bless me father, for I have sinned. I know getting to know you noders fucking sucked, but hell, that was 8 years ago, right? Yeah. Heh heh...right. You don't hold grudges do you?
Do you?
I mean, Jesus, Jesus! What the fuck do I know anyway? I'm just some scrawny kid who was locked indoors for 20 years with piles of dusty books that were cast off and forgotten by my older co-inhabitants. I can type up all the crap I learned from those cold, unfriendly books, or I can write about my life. My life is really messy and doesn't make much sense, but I figure it's better than reciting the definition for heterocyst, gyre, blastocyst, anomie...