Hello! I’m (E)lina.
I have always loved to share my writing because it is the deepest form of intimacy I know. It is where I go to the darkest part of myself and undress until every thought lies bare and every kink relaxed. It is where I forgive myself and start again. It is where I labor, painstakingly raking over everything I know, and with a shy smile and eyes averted, I say: “Here. This is for us.”
E’s Journal probably sounds like a personal diary. And to some extent, I imagine this space will probably begin to feel like that. Nonsense doodles, run-on sentences because I can’t be bothered to be grammatically correct, and collapsing a thought almost as soon as I open it. But I intend for this space to be more of a site of excavation. I want to make the world over, unpacking the stories and inhibitions and truths that we’ve told ourselves about what it means to be alive.
To be a conscious human being on this planet is a great responsibility, despite the cascading terror that has come to define our lives. To write for others is to begin a long conversation, to make a home among the wreckage. So come along with me as I attempt to build a home. Sit with me as I write through the messiness and magic of being alive. Be gentle with me as I draw lines and make meaning and come to conclusions slowly….playfully….honestly. Be witness to my whimsy.
A quick note about this blog:
I don’t send out email blasts. New posts go live weekly on Fridays. You’ll have to come and visit from time to time to see new posts. Or you can bookmark this page.
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I am a full-time policy analyst and researcher. What is written on this site does not represent the views or opinions of my employer.
When I was a sophomore in high school, I was forced to take an elective called Fashion Merchandising in the hopes that the class would improve my style. It did not. It did, however, introduce me to the world of fashion blogs. The fashion was exciting, but I was more obsessed with the feeling of someone letting me into their world. My style is drastically different (yet not much better), but that is a core memory for me. That was my version of playing around on the internet. In fact, school was the only place I had access to the internet. I would hop off the bus and go straight to the library before classes started, and log on to Teen Vogue. I’d already forgotten about the night before. I think it is so important, now, more than ever, to have spaces, online and off, that we don’t need to pay for. Just come. I’ll handle the rest.