You open up a program. That program is “The Microsoft, Word.” You think to yourself, ‘what kind of article is the hip, trendy youth of modern day America in the mood for this Tuesday afternoon?’ Or maybe it’s Wednesday afternoon. I don’t know. I don’t work. I wake up when I wake up. I don’t like clocks in my home.
You start typing and then midway through your first paragraph you realize that what you are writing is shit. Utter garbage. Your mailman’s diarrhea after a McDonalds dinner party is worth more than whatever it is you just wrote. Toss it out. Scrap it. Throw away your laptop and invest money into a MacBook Pro. Don’t feel comfortable investing? Watch Mad Money starring television’s Jim Cramer on CNBC every night at 11:00PM EST., 8:00PM PST.
You think about writing an essay on your sexual exploits with your former-fuckbuddy who no longer texts you. You think about writing an essay about your experiences as a 20-something in Brooklyn. You go to Facebook and start playing with yourself.
You decide that your article will be a listicle. ‘20 Things Every 20 Year Old Should Know When Wearing a Coat in Manhattan.’ Yes, that’s your article. Pretty soon you’re going to be an online writing sensation. You’re going to have, like, 11,000 Twitter followers once this article goes up. You’ll be the Lou Bega of Thought Catalog. And your mother will be proud.
An older man approaches you and asks you what your name is. You tell him. Then he tells you that he’s selling fake Rolexes at a discounted price and that they make the perfect Valentines Day gift. You tell him that you work at CiCi’s Pizzeria and that can’t afford such a gift, even discounted. He then leaves you alone.
You end your listicle on a good number. Like 8, or 12. 10 is too predictable. 10 is for people who don’t have any brains or sense of style. 10 is for the type of person who ties their shoes after they put their pants on. Don’t ever go with 10. People who go with 10 will go nowhere in life. You pick 10 and you stay at CiCi’s Pizzeria. Go with 8 or 12.
You submit your article to Thought Catalog and you wait. You wait a whole day. And then when it goes up you realize that there’s a typo in the fourth paragraph. Instead of spelling ‘sandbox’ you spelled ‘sandox.’ You have an anxiety attack because six people already shared your article on Facebook and one person tweeted it. You are FUCKED. Your career is over. Your mother sees it and weeps before falling into the arms of a lover who is not your father, and you are left alone in the world with nobody to love you.
But alas… There’s something there to stop you from running away from home and joining The Lumberjack Society of America. Just above your listicle is an advert, promoting another article on Thought Catalog. It says that the article contains a video. The video is ‘mystifyingly hilarious.’ There is a picture of a woman doing yoga just above the caption. She is holding a Lean Pocket. You click the link. Your life is saved.