Hurricanes and Blogger Burnout

Dear Alexander,

The eye of your hurricane may be quiet, but mine is not. Mine is making my head spin. I’m trying to write my way out though. My writing is the only thing I’m sure of.

Your obedient servant,


I wish I knew how Hamilton did it. All his writing. He wrote 51 of the 85 Federalist Papers when there were only supposed to be 25 in total. How did he never burn out? If I were writing all of that, it would be impossible not to. It would probably be easier if I weren’t a one-woman blog. But I am. At least for now.

I commented on this post the other day when I realized something: with all the mental and physical energy that it takes for me to come up with topics and write about them consistently, I should be getting paid. But I don’t have enough followers for anything of that sort yet. Even if I did, I doubt it would be a big paycheck.

When I get burned out, my content quality suffers. I hate having to post something for the sake of posting something just to stick to a schedule, because the output isn’t something I can be proud of . I want to produce content that I’m proud enough to show people.

It doesn’t help that I feel like hardly anyone takes me seriously. My friends think all I do is sit in my room all day and complain. In reality, I’m coping the best way I know how: writing. My imagination is essentially a form of therapy. I can channel whatever I’m feeling at the moment into any story I want. Right now, it’s mostly fan fiction. Hopefully I’ll be able to find my own story in the future.

Writing and job prospects? Don’t even get me started. People don’t think my writing counts as doing anything just because I’m not making money from it. I’m doing the thing I know how to do (I like to think my writing is at least halfway to decent), and yet they’re disappointed, because, for some reason, money makes the world turn.

Before my blog burned me out not even halfway through the year, it felt exactly like a full-time job. I was spend my days writing and planning multiple posts. I knew I was going to hit a wall, but I was hoping I’d avoid it somehow. Wishful thinking, I know. I’m slowly dipping my toes back in, though; I’ll definitely have to find a way to pace myself.


Rachel’s Broadway counterpart

I’ve written before about Rachel Platten and how her music is important to me. Maybe I’ve gone a little overboard. I’m not ashamed of it though. Because, at the end of the day, her music isn’t just fun and games. It serves a very important purpose: It makes me think about my life.

Rachel’s the backdrop for my highs and lows. She helps me process my feelings. She seems to have a song for whatever I’m feeling in a given moment. It’s almost like she and I are the same person.

However, Rachel Platten isn’t the only person who can make me think. Alexander Hamilton really blows my mind sometimes. Or maybe I should say Lin-Manuel Miranda. Yeah, that makes more sense, doesn’t it?

During my senior year in college, I had a lot on my mind that I was trying to cope with. And the Hamilton soundtrack – ahem, I mean original cast recording, sorry – seemed to be a giant metaphor for all of it. I could find something in almost every song that related to how I felt. Its relevance to my life was almost freaky. Two years later, it still means a lot to me, even though I have yet to see the play.

Rachel Platten and Lin-Manuel Miranda may not run in the same circles, but both of them mean a lot to me.


One Last Time

One last time,

Relax, have a drink with me

One last time.

Let’s take a break tonight 

And then we’ll teach them how to say goodbye, to say goodbye.

You and I.

If there’s a reason I don’t seem enthusiastic about graduating college in a few weeks, it’s not because I don’t want to enjoy myself and be excited.  I wish I was excited; people would stop questioning my mood.  However, it’s not that simple.

Randolph-Macon College in Ashland, Virginia has been my home for the last four years.  It hasn’t been easy, but somehow I’ve made it to the finish line.  I’ve made some great friends and learned from amazing professors who’ve become my role models.  

I don’t know how to let them go; I don’t know how to say goodbye.  Can Christopher Jackson come over and teach me or something?  Because just looking at the lyrics for “One Last Time” from Hamilton is making me tear up. 

 It’s bittersweet.  As much as I don’t want to leave, I think I’m ready for the next step.  And besides, if I never left undergrad, how could I go to grad school?  How could I do more with my life?  I couldn’t.

It’s not like I’m not going to keep in touch with people.  Hopefully I’ll be able to keep in touch with my professors.  After all, they’re the main reason I don’t want to leave in the first place.  I’ve been able to turn to them for support when I’ve needed it – and believe me, I’ve needed a lot.  I’d even go so far as to consider them my friends.

So again, it’s not that I’m moody on purpose.  I just don’t quite know how to process what I’m feeling right now.