An Apartment for Women

Shitty title. Not sure where I'm going with that.

I want to tie the two readings together. The first by Whitehead describes how places know you better than humans ever will because you're always around them. The unfortunate thing is that they can't talk. I'd love to reminisce with the walls in my childhood home and ask it what my favorite toys were or who my friends were.. I can't remember at this point. Woolf talks about how women need a place of their own to write effectively. Combine these two. If a woman has a place of her own, spends time with the place, talks to the walls in her spare time, holds festivities within its confines, and reflects back on what she's done in that certain space, writing flourishes. She remembers what she said to whom and can use that information to write. Right now, I feel like the place and the experiences that take place around me strongly influence my writing. While sure, I hate where I live and can't wait to get the fuck outta here, knowing that this is where I am and this is where I'm going to be for a little bit longer, develops what I say. My education influences what I say. I feel creative and knowledgeable because I'm a journalism student, but I'm super cynical because sociology points out that everything is a construct of our minds and nothing really exists for a purpose. Ta da, my writing style. This outlook reminds me that at the end of the day no one is really thinking about the fact that I said "fuck" while on the clock at my part time job except for the fact that the social construct around the phonetics that make up the word "fuck" are deemed "bad."

Oh, the places you'll go. I haven't liked a place since my childhood home. We moved when I turned 11 so my brother and I wouldn't have to share a room, and I fucking hated that place. My parents got divorced in that place and after my dad got the hell out, my mom just let the walls around us deteriorate. I think they'd be crying if they could talk. I wrote with a fury when I was younger to get out the anger that I held for the place. I wrote in fictional text-based RPGs but when I realized my writing was very stagnant, I stopped for a while. Then I turned to college and after dicking around my entire freshman year, I started writing again. Hey, what's up?

To answer every question on the prompt, I wasn't really confused by anything I read. But this is certainly my analysis and what combining the two made me think about.