I'm back again where I found myself a few years ago, running from what felt like a personal friend avalanche of yuckiness. Now, mind you, I don't think any of my associates are purposefully sending out yucky vibes. However, some of their opinions, like implying ethnic laziness or anti-patriotism just roil me like 1000 stabbings of ignorance. I can't face it, especially from the likes of family members I know to be kind to people's faces.
So when I'm recoiling from that type of avalanche I turn to my comfort and intellectual solace -- real books. Are you on Goodreads? Wanna connect with me there? I've been keeping track of the books I want to read as well as what I'm currently on.
This last one was motivating, as well as a little funny. Goodness, I've been making a little money here and there for 7 years for my writing, but never would dare call myself a writer or author. Isn't that funny? My imposter complex serves no one, especially aspiring bloggers, so it should be gone like yesterday I think. That may be the first hurdle this book was meant to overcome. Reading the title right there makes one ask a lot of self talk questions, it seems.
Have you read a good book lately?
I still have a really hard time calling myself an author, too. So silly.
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