I have officially become what I’ve been making fun of all my life.
The idea of “blogging” to me was just absolutely absurd–but then again, when I thought of bloggers I thought of beauty bloggers and mommy-blogs. Hell, I would assume that those who were too literate to be on Pinterest would make blogs just to support there aesthetic needs. Yet here I am, sitting on my bed, spending the time to actually create this website just so that I could…just so that I could what exactly?
For me at least, this is just an easier way of me keeping a journal without CONSTANTLY buying new journals.
Do y’all just wake up one day and think to yourself, “Damn, I need myself a journal so I can record everything from my day to day life so that when I’m elderly I can marvel at my youth,” write religiously for a week, and then toss the journal in the PHAT journal graveyard that’s been growing since you were twelve years old? Well, that’s me every damn month. I want to be able to record the good, the bad, and the ugly of the world I see everyday and just record everything I experience. So this is kind of a journal, but I’d like to think of it as a memoir (cause my egotistical ass thinks I’m actually gonna be famous one day).
So who am I exactly?
So my name is Delina Biniam. I am the daughter of two very loud, very strict Eritrean immigrants. Some would classify me as “thickums” since God really did bless me with a booty (and the very annoying large thighs that come with it). I am an emotionally distressed pre-med student (subject to change…?) at Gonzaga University, an institution known for it’s very peppy school spirit and their very known lack of diversity (I’m being for real, there are 12 black girls in a class of 1200…12!). My music taste is basically anything that would be played in AfroPunk with a splash of rap, and I am a complete sucker for Anne Hathaway movies. Unknown to most, I have a passion for writing, and if I wasn’t pressured by the whole first-generation-college-student-tryin-to-make-my-parents-proud-and-pay-them-back-every-cent stigma, I would risk it all to pursue my dream of becoming a novelist. But alas, my life’s a mess, but what else is new.
So why First Generation Mess…?
Because that is exactly what my life is: a mess. The generations before me never had a mess of a life; they were too busy dealing with actual real life struggles like war and colonization. Because I am the first privileged generation, my entire life is a complete guinea pig test: no one knows what the hell is going on, so they’re just gonna go with the flow. I feel like that’s how my life has been going for the past almost-twenty-years. I’m literally rolling with the punches here, so when figuring out the name for this blog, I just felt like this was the most fitting (and relatable to any other second gens).
So what exactly do I want out of this whole “Blog” thing?
I was in need of an outlet. A semi-creative outlet that allows me to pour out my emotions and destress from a day of bullshit without mascara running down my face and a scheduled appointment with my therapist. Some people draw pictures, record videos, write songs, etc. just to relieve themselves. I would write, but since I literally have the handwriting of a seven year old boy, I guess blogging is my new thing.
I’m basically trying to be like a black Jenna Hamilton from Awkward.
I literally can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Who knows. I guess that’s for everyone else to decide.