I have a lot I want to write, but now’s not the time, I think. I’ve been in a complete mood-perhaps it’s the weather? The magic of summer (completely and thoroughly my least favorite season)?

There has been a sort of “goodbye to all that, regarding ‘indie’ culture (and, possibly, also the internet)” percolating in my brain but I can’t articulate it. Culture, to me, feels less exciting, less daring than it was ten years ago. And I don’t think it was because I was a teenager then and that’s all I had to shape my identity with, per se. It feels like the internet has worked as a pandora’s box. In some ways it’s exciting, but in some ways, I just feel married to my computer and technology and I hate what it’s doing to social interactions.

It hurts to see newspapers flailing and critics losing their jobs. It hurts to see the music that I liked, no, needed, because I was ugly and unsure and unafraid is now a fashion statement and utterly disposable. It hurts to see movies becoming irrelevant-they’ve been ceded to the fanboys. Honestly, it’s hard to write about movies as a woman, sometimes, since I never feel like they’re made for me, like they’re generous enough in spirit. It’s a bros’ world after all. (Some movies are good, though!)

I think I always wanted to be a magazine writer. I’m an excellent interviewer, I have a knack for the interesting, I’m good at following people and writing it up. I think it’s a really hard row to hoe, and between the internet’s chokehold on the industry, the rise of “unpaid internhips” as a necessary stepping stone, and a whole generation getting kicked out of their jobs as others get into place, I don’t know if it’s feasible.

Or if it’s what I want right now.

I’m going to start volunteering and I’m going to start learning new things.


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