When I was first asked to write for this blog, I immediately felt excitement, coupled with a twinge of apprehension.
I felt excited, because I absolutely love writing, especially when I know it isn’t going to be graded. (Wait… this isn’t going to be graded, is it?) And I felt apprehensive, because, aside from grad school papers, I pretty much stick strictly to humor-infused memoirs with somewhat of an “I-say-what-I-want-and-I-won’t-care-what-you-think” flair to them.
But the truth is, I do care what you think. No matter how flippant or casual my writing may appear on the surface, nearly every comma, parenthetical joke, and seemingly off-the-cuff remark has actually been carefully considered, scrapped multiple times, and finally re-typed with the most ambiguous of resolve. So don’t let me fool you. I’m really not as slick as I seem.
Something I’ve been learning, though, is that sometimes it’s ok not to be slick. Sometimes being authentic matters more than being slick. You know that saying, “You have to risk it to get the biscuit”? Well, sometimes you have to risk giving up slickness in order to truly get the biscuit.