You know, I’ve written at least six different introductions to this post and none of them have suited me.
So here’s me going for a stream-of-consciousness bit.
I’ve always enjoyed blogging, even though I often went through varying gaps of silence. When it came to being consistent, I wasn’t particularly good. However, I never abandoned it entirely. I always felt some semblance of disappointment whenever someone I knew started a blog and then let it go mere weeks later.
I know it’s not for everyone, and God knows there are so very many blogs out there and only a few of them are gems.
I’m pretty sure mine isn’t a gem, but I do enjoy doing it and that’s why I do it. The reason I stopped, however, is that it started to feel forced. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be serious or funny. Do I talk about my everyday life, my past, my future, my beliefs, politics…what? I’ve never thought too much about what I put out there because no one really reads my blog…or if more people do, I rarely get feedback from them. So I can usually just say what’s on my mind, or what’s going on with my day, and leave it at that. My older sister usually leaves a comment and that’s about it and that’s okay.
But I read a lot. I read a lot a lot. And there are so many things that anger me, that make me happy, that make me upset and that make me think…but I hardly ever end up writing about it because what’s one voice in a sea of voices? Will it make a difference? Does it even matter? What the hell matters? Who gives a flying rat’s whisker about what I have to say anyways? Everyone and their grandmother with access to a smartphone can spout off what’s in their heads all day for the world to see and the world goes on and on and nothing changes and no one cares.
So why do I do this? What does it do for me or for anyone, really?
I wanted to stop for a while. My last few posts on my old blog felt like I was simply updating to show people (who probably didn’t even notice I was gone) that I was still around and that there were some changes going on in my life that kept me from blogging.
But who cares, really? No one is waiting on tenterhooks to see what I have to say. Everyone is mixed up in their own worlds, and they have every right to be.
I had trouble finding my voice. Even after nine years, I still don’t know what my voice truly sounds like. I know it has changed a lot since I first started. I read through my early posts from 2006, 2008, 2012 and I can see the growth. But I want to know what matters to me.
What matters to me? What do I want to know more about? What do I want to discuss? What do I want to shed light on?
Because, sure, there is a sea of voices out there, all clamoring, all yelling, all jostling for an ear that never stays for more than a few minutes at a time…but I have a view too. Why do I care if anyone cares?
Writing is a way for me to express how I’m feeling, and it does so much to help me put things in perspective. There are times when I write things and I have trouble reading them again because I don’t want to relive that moment and those emotions.
(I usually end up writing the most when I’m upset or confused or quite angry…but usually those writings are private and not shared on the blog).
Some people are very open about what’s going on in their lives, down to their innermost thoughts. Sometimes I’m tempted to spew what I really think and really feel about certain topics or events, but then I don’t. I just read, read, read and then do a lot of reblogging on my Tumblr…but I don’t sound off with my voice or my words.
This is a roundabout way of saying that, along with the changes going on in my life right now, I’ve also decided to change how I write and what I write about. I don’t want to just keep a journal of everyday happenings, although there is nothing wrong with that. I want to think critically about and digest the world around me. I want to give and take with people, even though I don’t have my hopes up about that because people on the internet can be jerks. (To put it mildly).
I just want to be making a mark of some kind…even if it’s just me that sees it.