Re-reading chapter six, I find myself embedding a bunch of tropes. It’s gross. It’s unbecoming. In fact, it’s even insulting. The beauty of the rewriting process is that I can… change it. It’s difficult to get away from what’s already been done before. For our generation, we have ridden a tsunami of movies, books, TV shows, music, and on and on. Essentially, we have seen, heard, and read more things than any previous generation before. And it’s arrived at a point, in this post-modern world, where it’s become self-referential, repeating in this feedback loop of intertextuality and irony.

The sad thing is that we can’t escape it, no matter how hard we try. Oh, we can try, but the attempt in it of itself will be labeled as postmodern.

Not giving up though.

Maybe it’s a good thing we share so many of the same experiences and that we continually write about similar things. Maybe that’s what makes life more bearable.

Or….

Maybe I’m not as original as I thought I was.