unsolicited ramblings

You didn't ask for them, but they're here anyway. The hot takes, thoughtful arguments, thoughtless ponderings, and other nonsense that cross my mind.

I created this account toward the end of 2021 for two reasons.

One: I found myself in a position in which I held opinions on matters that seemingly no one cared to hear. Perhaps they found the topics unimportant or uninteresting, or my delivery was more vinegar than sugar, or I had something stuck in my teeth. And yet, I craved the opportunity to speak my mind if for no other reason than to expel an idea into the real world like a pent up sneeze.

Of course, I invited discussion, debate, even criticism. But in practice, I rarely made it to the point those invitations could be offered (much less accepted).

What the hell, I figured. I’ll just type my dumb thoughts onto the internet. There, they could be swiftly ignored or reluctantly engaged. And if I was lucky, I might experience the sweet relief of finally achoo-ing that pseudo-intellectual sternutation which taunted me.

I had no real objective with the blog. It was a place to jot down my rants, my opinions, my poorly developed contrivances. My unsolicited ramblings.

Two: Write.as had announced the cessation of free accounts. Might as well make one now to have for later.

And later it is. Nearly two and a half years later. I sense something familiar: an undefinable something. Pent up. Pleading for its release.


As I begin typing in the credentials to my account, I wonder if they would even work. Can a two-year dormant account with zero activity be allowed perpetuance? Is this thing still on?

I expect not.

Click. The page loads, cautiously.

I’m in.

Huh, interesting. Now what?

Over the last two years, as the rhythm of life began to resemble something pre-pandemic normal, the crave to sneeze my unsolicited ramblings gradually subsided as the cruel indifference of time trudged forward and presented fresh demands: a new job, the (op)pressing deadline of rent due, time spent attempting to convert recent acquaintances into friends, the contentious internal debate desperately trying to settle the question, “do I go back to school?”

Classes, homework, and projects when that query was answered in the affirmative. Procrastination of the same. Guilt for the enormous heap of student loan debt already accrued, and now growing again. Shame and defeat for subsequently dropping out.

Listlessness, grasping at straws, confusion. Another new job.

The suffocating heft of various debts knocking loudly at the door, well past their tolerance for additional forbearance, forgiveness, or flexibility.

Realizing my earned income is grossly insufficient and will not satisfy the door-knockers.

Starting a business in hopes of earning more. Closing it a year later when it flopped, like a pancake skidding off the griddle after a failed flip.

The brewing anxiety of knowing you don’t actually know yourself.

The burdensome self-imposed questions which demand answers the self cannot muster.

What am I doing with my life? Why am I older, but no wiser?

Why can I pinpoint many things I dislike, but struggle to find even two which I do? How do I not know what I want?

Is this thing still on?

I'm not exactly sure what this space will be;

mostly, just an outlet for me.

I look around and see things a bit differently

(in all honesty, it's way too frequently).

I have this itch

to bend someone's ear so I can bitch.

But the more I do, the more I find

no one really wants to hear my qualms with humankind.

They chuckle and say, “You're a bit grouchy, aren't you?”

Uh... duh, and for good reason, too.

But they don't want to hear it.

And I get it; I don't blame them a bit.

But that itch remains...

I can feel it in my veins.

So, this blog is a new approach

to complain about the things I want to broach.

I don't know how frequently I'll write;

some posts will be long, others a bit more light.

But, if you're into these kinds of things,

here you can read my unsolicited ramblings.

And now, to set the tone right from the start:

I hate rhyming and poetry.

Enter your email to subscribe to updates.