Guilt
Tuesday, January 19, 2010Guilt
I think I have figured it out, though, I think I finally know why that is the case. You see, when you are somebody who strives to write a little something everyday, then there is bound to be the day that you begin to burn out, when you feel like you don't want to embark on that kind of expressional journey on a daily basis. I am not the kind of writer, or blogger, who wants to post just about anything everyday. There are funny pictures or interesting quotes that come along all the time, and the sites that I see them are updated pretty frequently throughout the day. Yet, I don't want my blog to turn into a picture blog of sorts, choked with pictures of little things I gather throughout the day. It has always been a part of my heart and my mind, it has always been like a bank where I deposit these things. To exorcize them, to leave them somewhere safer than my head, perhaps. It has always been an effort for me to sort my thoughts out so that it will not jeopardize the rest of who I really am, you know. Every once in a while, I suppose posting song lyrics and such should be fine, but that has never been the sole purpose of what this blog is all about, or what I deem it to be about. This is an attachment, or a long engagement that seems to have gone too far and too deep. It's just a blog, the rational side of me tells, it's really just a blog.
At the same time, though, I didn't want it to sink into a blog that is like the ten million other blogs out there. I didn't want every entry to be a description or a report of what happened in a day of mine, you know. Nobody wants to read about my trip to the supermarket, the brand of rice that I bought, why I preferred to buy the bottle of cream sauce instead of a tomato-based one. Well, perhaps the reasoning would be somewhat interesting, but then there are so many blogs around that I can never be bothered to bring myself to read. I have too much respect for myself to do that, because some blogs are simply not worth your time. Even if they are just a paragraph or two about what they ate, where they went, who they met, what they did - you feel like pulling your brain out from your nostrils via a very long hook, and then proceed to beat your brain into a pulp with your fists. There are times when you start to wonder how anybody would be egoistical enough to expect anybody to read that. They may argue that they blog for themselves, that it is really a personal diary that happens to be online. Well, no such thing exists when you are on the internet, and a blog that isn't locked is for the public eye. A part of you craves for that attention when you leave it available for the rest of the world to see. A part of you wants to be read and be known no matter how mundane your life can become.
So, I didn't want my blog to be about that at all. An everyday account of what happened in my day - who cares? I know I don't care, but the thoughts that come along with the events that happened, now that may count for something indeed. I've heard of a saying before that speaks of how there is something in everything to write about, and I suppose that is true. Yet, if you are also writing with a certain audience in mind, no matter how insignificant or small, you have to realize that although there is something in everything to write about, not everything is worth writing about, however. So, in an effort to control the quality of things, I suppose that was the reason why I so suddenly stopped doing something altogether. It wasn't a conscious decision to do so, it just kinda stopped midway through my trip in Buffalo. Maybe it wasn't even midway, but it certainly felt very immediate. I have proclaimed a couple of times that I was back to writing for good, but I suppose there were too many things going on back then - or too little - to want to do this all over again. Sooner or later, guilt started to set in, and I started to avoid this blog like an ex-lover. You know, like an ex-girlfriend who is in the same class as you, you cannot help but avoid her as often as possible. Worse, if you guys were assign the same group in a project - the horrors.
I cannot guarantee to you, blog, how long I will be sticking around again this time. I still have a brain, things still go through my head, and I've always had the urge to write something. Guilt kept me away, and isn't that a curious emotion to feel towards a blog anyway? It is a time of self-reflection these days, when you are sitting at home alone and you are wondering what exactly you can contribute to, well, everything. Graduation is the beginning of your unemployment, and while that can be a truly terrifying period of time, it is also a time when you get to sit down somewhere quietly and do some reflection. That's what I have been doing, just reflecting upon myself and thinking about what I can do based upon what I do best. When you come right down to it, you have very little talents to boast about, and there are probably a dozen others who can do a better job than you do at practically anything. In a world this competitive, it is almost impossible to stand out, especially when you haven't been trying to do so all your life. I figured that I love writing, and I am somewhat decent at doing it. Writing isn't something that is foreign to me. In fact, I love writing just about anything. Even if it is a note for my sister, I enjoy crafting the message and choosing the words carefully. It expresses who I am, even the littlest things in life.
This is the crossroads, and I suppose any of life's junctions deserves a fresh new start in terms of expressing myself. It is petrifying down here, which is why I managed to ignore the nagging guilt in my chest. It bugs at you and tucks at your veins until you finally give in. You say to yourself "yes, yes!", and you go ahead and begin on the very first line, even if you have written something similar a couple of months ago. This is when everything bears down on you, this is when it seems like the right time to start over. I don't know how long I will last, but this feels right. This, everything, feels appropriate. By now, everything seems comfortable and familiar already, and it doesn't take a lot for me to slip back into my comfort zone. You know, amidst the billions of permutations that my keyboard can conjure, the different combination of letters and buttons, that is the place where I discover my solace and bliss.
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on Tuesday, January 19, 2010 at 4:27 PM.
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