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My Creative Process

Do you want to take a peek into my creative process? I am currently sitting in the middle of this coffee shop in the middle of downtown that doubles as a bar. I’m hella distracted by the television playing The Office.

Can I take a second to digress about The Office? This boring show about white people doing boring things is actually entertaining me. I have seen the memes and gifs and they may have sparked a chuckle or two. They launched the careers of two actresses whose shows have me doubled over with laughter- Mindy Kaling (who’s two memoirs are just as funny and so relatable to my life) with her show The Mindy Project, and Ellie Kemper (her memoir did not keep me as entertain and I gave up about halfway through) with her show The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. This show has so many other actors and actresses I find hilarious. Why have I held out?

I don’t think I can adequately answer that question. All I know is that I have attempted to watch in the past, dutifully starting with season one, episode one and I couldn’t make it past the first 15 minutes. Despite protests and declarations of love from my dear white friends and many of my black ones, I could not find the motivation to press on.

Who knows? Maybe after the wifi returns to my apartment (it’s been out for a month. I blame ATT and Donald Trump), I will find some time to binge it.

So back to my creative process. I’m sitting here, sipping on my hibiscus beer that you would only find in a bougiee town like this. I have my headphones in listening to the new (at the time of this writing) Snoh Aalegra album. I look like a vision of black hipster entitlement (but let me be clear: I don’t feel entitled to anything. I know how much privilege I experience. Especially among the huge homeless population here in this town).

I’m lowkey hungry. I could really kill some mozzarella sticks from Sonic (thank god for spell check because I could not spell mozzarella. I spelled it wrong twice. I was convinced there was a t in there somewhere. I also spelled other things wrong, as I do all the time. Sometimes it’s from typing fast and carelessly; sometimes it’s because I genuinely don’t know how to spell a word because technology has spoiled me. Learning how to spell is just not an important skill anymore. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night thinking that spell check missed a word, like one of those words that is technically spelled right, but I used the incorrect word because I misspelled the word I was trying to use or I missed something with grammar because the blue lines never came up and I posted it for the world to see on this blog).

There’s a guy at the bar with a pedo-stache (I need to stop using that word as a joke. Rape culture is pervasive enough in our society) and a tattoo of twin fetuses on his leg. Definitely a hipster place, not so much a black place.

So, in conclusion, as you can see, my creative process is typing a bunch of random things and getting distracted a bunch of times. If you can believe it, I stay more focused here in this place than I do in my apartment, hence why I am here.

I hope I haven’t scared you off with my 600 words of nonsense.

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