Hughman Structure

I began writing 4 years ago. In all honesty, the idea of writing for any reasons at all, never occurred to me. I was 21, had just gotten my drinking license, and was so unmotivated and indecisive in college, I had declared everything to be my major. I had an inkling of the world’s spiraling demise at 21 and the thought of incarcerating my ideology within a sole major felt no different than condoning the world’s demise.

I had already spent the preceding 20 years obeying every wish my mother and father decreed, rational and irrational ones, and smothered any individual sense of self everyone else seemed to have. I didn’t mind not having an idea of who I was supposed to be. In fact, I was busy assimilating to freedom with a completely blank canvas discover myself on, and I had a state legal I.D. that brandished my adequacy to a plethora of liquor stores.

I will confess this; I hadn’t read a single book until I was 21. I had survived and fought my way out of my home into an educational sanctuary of debauchery without having read a book. I had a college reading level when I walked into the fifth grade. But reading an actual book was absolutely redundant in the state of California. I read at a college level because my parents couldn’t read. So it was of dire, fucking dire importance that I read and respond to all the bureaucratic warning notices in the mail of residential as well as North American interest. Keeping the family in the country and out of jail seemed a great importance: other kids were in the boyscouts or were already dating.

I honestly have no idea how to even begin explaining the reason which ordained me to pick up the pen… or keyboard, so I won’t. Whatever that reason was, was also the first time I’ve ever been inspired to provoke something I actually believe in. (It got me laid too, but come on, 21 is beyond blooming late, seeeeeriously.)

Lastly, this blog isn’t mine. It’s a gift for the survivors. If you need an explanation for who the survivors are, you probably aren’t a survivor.

(Anytime I update or edit anything ‘about me‘ I always end up sounding rude and or condescending, but I have decided it to be shame on you if you were somehow offended. Aside from that, I hope something I’ve said in this blog has helped you.)

This blog, from the first post to the most recent, has chronicled my journey and survival of a most American tact of self-discovery and grounding. Given, the quest was and still is full of shit waiting to be walked into, but at least, now I know who I am, and who I used to be. You don’t know shit unless you know both those. You’re going to have to die (figuratively), should you only have half the creds -it’s brutal, but it’s the only way we humans learn to discern what we’ve done wrong.