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happy saturday, readers!

i mentioned a couple of days ago that one of the things on my list of things to do is to write a short story. keeping this goal in mind, i rooted through my computer to try and find things i composed in the past. i knew i had written at least a couple of short pieces of writing - i was going through one of those defining "who am i?" moments and turned to microsoft word a lot.

i did end up finding some documents that were written in november and december of 2008. i was 19 at the time (i am 22 now), living in san diego and in my 2nd year at san diego state university. it was a tough time for me, as i was learning some painful lessons about growing up and the ways in which people change.. something i might go into later if i can muster up the courage.

i found this certain document that, i'll admit, is a little bit weird. but the me of today admires the daring philosophical-ness of the 19-year-old me. it took me a couple times to remember what my point really was when i wrote this, but i think it is something interesting to think about. i did make a few corrections (there were some errors in wording i just couldn't be okay with) but tried my hardest to preserve the thoughts of my former self.

without any further introduction, here is a very short piece by 2008 alaina for you all to enjoy:

          "I used to write all the time. What happened?

         I used to write. I used to enjoy it, too. The best things I ever wrote were before I experienced very much. The more you experience, the more your imagination decomposes. The greatest writers aren’t the ones who have experienced a lot and then write about those experiences in new, innovative ways. The best writers are the ones who write about the most absurd things, like children using their imaginations. When you have an imagination, nothing can stop you; there are no walls, ceilings, or budgets to creativity. Often times I pray I could get my imagination back.

         With an imagination, you can dream up anything. I can create a monster, called… Hornbladt… who is a drag queen by day and super slick drug enforcement agent by night. Absolutely nothing has to make sense. Hornbladt is gay but refuses to have sex with men. He only sleeps with women. No, he never sleeps with anybody. But only kisses women. That makes more sense, only because it absolutely doesn’t.

         Thinking of Hornbladt, I become liberated. I am beginning to learn that being too sensible is my problem. I look at all these people around me, all these children, full of imagination. They don’t let anything hold them back. Police officers, dutiful parents, protective older siblings, school officials; look at those who participate in meaningless sex, stuffing illicit drugs up their noses, sleeping through classes without care, driving without using a hands-free device. Maybe to be careless, rebellious, eccentric, maybe that means you have more of your imagination left than most people.

         Then there are people like me - people that have experienced thoughtlessness, carelessness, and have given it up in the name of morality. I walked away from being able to think I could do whatever I wanted. Now I am responsible, clean up after myself to make life more pleasant for people around me. I turn in assignments on time to please professors and study hard to get good grades for my parents. I am faithful to a loyal boyfriend. But the more I think about it, I realize I am too proud to screw up. I am too proud to be free. I would never give others the satisfaction of knowing that I have the ability to fail a midterm, to accept a mixed drink from a stranger, to answer a text message while I am driving. I am too proud to relax. So which way is right? Those who live guided by a moral compass, or those who have the ability to live beyond it?"

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