It’s just a bunch of Hocus Pocus

I think too much. I talk too much. I anaylze too much. I play games too much. I wear too much Black. I help others too much. I run to0 much. Put it all together and what do you have — A witch; at least that’s what my brother likes to call me.

I’ve always been a writer, even when I didn’t want to be. As a child, my mom would make me write short stories on my behavior when my curiousity would get the best of me; which was frequently. It was either get slapped or write 10 sentences on why I chose to be such a mischievous human being. Eventually, I would get slapped and still manage to hash out 11 sentences, but I’m no overachiever.

If I had to choose between Cheetos or Doritos, it would be Cheetos. Now, the Cheetah the corporation uses for all of their ads, scares the living hell out me, but at least Cheetos doesn’t cut the corners of my mouth.

It all started when I watched the first episode of Scandal. Definition, an action that causes general public outrage. Just think, A Black woman by the name of Olivia Pope causing an immense amount of havoc on Pennsylvania Avenue. She doesn’t eat, she hardly sleeps, and she’s banging the POTUS — what a witch she is.

The atmosphere of a writing course at the University of Alabama has always intrigued me more than the actual work that’s attached with them. I do not want to say it, but I will; the English department is wayyy weirder than those theatre majors (shout out to Rowand Johnson). It’s so refreshing to be in a class room full of different aesthetic kids I wouldn’t normally meet on a daily basis. I’m either surrounded by thick football players most of the day or catty white sorority girls that Xanax too much. To say the least, my creative writing course’s keep me sane.

I want to be a law school student this fall. That is all.