I have to put a title?
You are telling me to tell a story?
Too bad my life is neither grand nor exciting enough to be told in an epic saga format. Nothing like a typical bildungsroman such as Great Expectations, surely.
I guess I should start with my name. My pen name, that is. No one ever told me that picking a pen name would be such a pain in the butt. How did J.K. Rowling manage to do it? Anyway, you can call me “…”; or Dot Dot Dot; or just simply Dotty; whatever floats your boat. I was going to go with Pointless Pigeon or Zany Zebra, but then I paused, stupefied at how silly those names sound. I figured that I should just go with something a little bit truer to the state of my life right now—a perpetual cycle of boredom. And that, whoever is reading this, is how the ellipsis was born. Ta da!
At least this is exciting, talking to myself.
Hi, my name is Dotty. Nice to meet you.
(I swear, I have never actually introduced myself in this cookie cutter format. Why is it even a thing? It is never actually nice to meet someone since you do not know anything about him or her.)
Now that we are done with the unnecessary formalities and all, it is time to move on to something a little bit more… conversational, don’t you think? Yes, we can do the trivial and boring get-to-know-someone set of questions like some good-for-nothing kiddies. No? I don’t think so.
If you are troubled by my rude manners, I apologize. I never meant to be rude, only honest. I would want to say that I value honesty, but then I would be branded as a hypocrite because, let’s be frank here, who has not lied once in life? There is no such thing as an honest person whatsoever. So if you ever get stuck in a situation in which someone tells you to be honest, just retort with what I explained up there. That will teach people to be less like phony goody two-shoes. People lie. Simple truth. See, I just lied! Because it’s not a simple truth. There is no such thing as truth. Only well-fabricated lies.
You must be wondering why I sound so bitter and rude. Well, I guess I should explain myself. I don’t have to, but I will. Because I value your companionship.
As you maybe could have told from my oh-so-immature tone and questionable diction, I am a hormonal, angsty 17-year-old teenager who has nothing better to do but regurgitate his thoughts in this blogging medium called Medium (hah). Why am I so angsty? I kind of have an idea as to why, but I cannot seem to pinpoint it. Perhaps, it is a concoction of a slow-paced, empty summer and loneliness. I leave for college in September since god forbids UC kids from leaving early, apparently (except UC Berkeley because they prize themselves as rebellious hippies or something). I am just kidding; many of my friends go to UC Berkeley. In fact, the reason why I started this blog is because one of those friends told me to. He has been a great influence in my life and I wish I had talked to him more when we were in high school. But that’s a topic for another day, I hope. For the sake of his confidentiality, we shall refer to this Berkeley individual as “Fuhrer”. Worry not, it is an inside joke and it will be explained in due time. Though that would kill the joke but it’s okay.
Oh, before I put an end to this blog entry. I want to make this the thing of my blog: Jubilant Jam. Whenever I blog, I will put a song that I have been addicted to at the end of my blog. Yes, it will contain mainstream, craptastic pop music; just a warning to all those rebellious hippies out there. But, it will also contain some truly good music, I promise.
Just kidding, I promise nothing.
Jubilant Jam: Play It Right by Sylvan Esso.