I flash back
to those hands
roaming my body
in places no boy
has gone before
when kissing you
finally felt as good
as I imagined
and that look
in your eyes
you touched me
like you never
I play them on repeat.
Let them linger.
These fragments of desire
that still have me blushing
and forgetting the wreckage
from which they sprung
– when nostalgia is a motherfucker
My name is Learkana (leer-kaw-nah | leh!-keh-nah). I graduated with a degree in English from an expensive ass liberal arts women’s college and it was the best decision I ever made in my life (although my bank account disagrees). Currently figuring my life out as all twenty-something fuckups do (doing it in the Bay Area makes it a lot better though.) I used to have a Xanga (wow I feel old). I actually utilized the blog feature on Myspace (you know, when Myspace was a thing). I even create “Notes” on Facebook! (Yeah, I’m that kind of FB friend. Sorry.) So with some strong encouragement from a few of my ~real-life~ friends (aka Nicole and Darcy), I’ve decided to get all official-like with this blogging business and create a forreal blog, and shit. (I do have a Tumblr, but come on. Tumblr is not a forreal blog site! It’s way too impersonal and people mostly reblog pictures of cats and screenshots of controversial tweets.)
I was very hesitant about doing this, just because I find blogging to be such a self-absorbed practice. Okay, yes, I accept that I’m a narcissist. But it’s one thing to post the
annoyingly frequent occasional status or note about my thoughts, it’s a whole other thing to create an entire online forum dedicated to exhibiting my train of thoughts in longhand form in the hopes that someone with a decent-sized attention span and enough interest will want to read what I have to say in excruciating detail and whatnot. But oh well. I’m doing it anyway. I am embracing my narcissism in all of its self-referential, self-centered glory! Woo! Also it’s not something I can escape, as a writer. I will always be blogging, even if it’s not public (back in ancient times, pre-Internet craze, it was called “writing in my journal”). Which reminds me of something one of my professors once told me: “Even if you don’t get published, you will keep writing. If you are a writer, you won’t be able to stop. Writing is surviving.”* So I might as well make it a consistent practice and try to be entertaining (perhaps enlightening? am I overshooting?) while I’m at it.
What am I going to write on here? Oh, all sorts of shit you probably won’t care to know about it! The following are just a few things I might tackle:
- my misadventures with online dating (OKC, hollaa–or not)
- the frustrations of being an intersectional feminist in an oblivious world
- the frustrations of being a millenial in our fucked up economy
- overdoing-it analysis of pop culture
- my dysfunctional family
- awkward anecdotes
- my struggles as a half-assed writer
- work-related references that will be oblique because I don’t wanna get fired
I see you’ve wet your pants in excitement. GTFO no one said you could piss yourself in this space. Loljk.
What else can I say about me? (memememe.) (I guess that I really enjoy parentheses. Oh yeahh.)
Well, that about covers it for now.
tl;dr women’s college feminism english degree yay! writing writing writing this blog = longer version of my Facebook updates sry2say
*Disclaimer: All quotes from real persons are half-remembered and paraphrased to suit the author’s own purposes. She apologizes for her memory but not for her bias.
When you’re a millenial, these introduction things get old. Like, how many ways can you really inaccurately capture the complicated (read: fucked up) mess that you are? Wanna play it safe and boring this time? Quirky and cute? Random and lol?
I’ve agonized over too many bios and self-summaries and about me’s over the years. (Narcissism and neurosis galore!) It is really tiring having to define myself. Because it is tiring having to limit myself. But writing more and more just makes me sound like even more of a self-centered jackass, so…
Whatever. I’ve come out of the narcissist closet. I write about me because I know me, not because I love me. Well, as much as one can really know oneself–to say that I write about me because I’m familiar with me, would be more accurate. I wonder if people get that. I wonder if people think they know me because I am so TMI and FYI all the time. I wonder if people think they know me better than I know myself. I wonder if those people are right and what them being right means for me. The truth is, I am explicit and prolific and brutal and unflinching in my self-display on social media because a part of me is hoping that someone will gently take my hand and tell me, “Hey. You are x and y and z, and that’s okay. So stop worrying about it.” Then I can just stop fixating on what and how I am in relation to the rest of the world except not really because that will never happen.
OK OK no more pseudo-philosophical bullshit
Hi, my name is Learkana. No, Learkana. No, Learkana. No, leer-kaw-nah. L-e-a-r-k-a-n-a. Thanks, it’s Cambodian. Well it’s not really pronounced that way though. It’s actually leh!-keh-nah. Leh!-keh-nah. No, leh!-keh-nah. …just say Leer-kaw-nah.
tl;dr I haz blog cuz I iz narcissist