What’s the Point?

What’s the point of writing a discussion board? The words we type, the time we spent, and the casual exchange of opinions is all wasted and lost within the Canvas (or BlackBoard) software. Once we type our replies and send them off, that’s that. Our opinions are out there. Your classmates’ reply, you get a grade, and then when the class closes you never get your words back again. What if you have real potential? What if your opinion could be useful being typed up elsewhere? Like, for instance, a blog post? Or maybe just social media.

I know it’s been a while WordPress, I’m just pondering. I’ve grown to miss the simple click-clack of the keys and the freedom you’ve given me over the past three years. These next five or six weeks are going to be rough. My blog is severely lacking, while the ones for school are thriving. But, do not fret! I have something in the works! I’ve had a few reviewers read what I already have in progress and I’ve had brilliant feedback. “Turn this into a book!” “I’d love to read this.” “Where are you going with this? I want to buy it.” And so on and so forth.

I love all of my fellow readers, all of my “fans”, and all of my active followers. I’d like to take this moment to apologize for my lack of material and I hope that if you’re still listening to me, you’re still hanging in there!

In the meantime, make sure to keep up with my other two blogs!

Blog for Intro to Writing: Writing 101

Blog full of Multimedia: Chucklehead 101

Joie de Vivre

Outside in the wintery mix,

Flurrying snowflakes fall to the ground.

When you open the doors,

Heat hits your face,

While the smell of fresh grounds,

Invades your nose.

The cushiony chairs throughout the room,

Welcome you as though,

You’re in your very own home.

Walking in the Wi-Fi connects,

Apples are placed on the desks.

Fellow classmates fill the empty spaces,

Furrowed brows with focused faces.

Order a cup or two or three,

There will never be enough,

Brewed coffee.

The steam from the cup,

Warms your senses,

The smell of pumpkin spice,

Drifts from your mug.

At this point,

You don’t even need it,

The caffeine doesn’t affect you,

You just drink it to fit in,

With the fellow zombies around you.

You drink it for the taste,

You drink it for the aesthetic,

You drink it because it’s become a bad habit.



And reading,

Are your only escape.

They consume your everyday life,

But you’re still counting down the days,

Until the calendar marks the next,

Holiday break.

My Joie de Vivre,

You guessed it,

Is coffee.

Also, if you think this poem,

Is just like the last one,

You’re right!

You caught me.

– uninspired, but inspired