They say if something is important to you, you’ll make time for it no matter what. If basketball is your passion, you’ll find a way to dribble the ball and shoot a few hoops… if your priority in life is your relationship, you’ll find hours and minutes to hold the one you love… and if you find meaning in words, then books (and maybe blogging) won’t be strangers.
I haven’t written on here for a while (yes a week is a “while”)… which isn’t to say I haven’t been writing – I’ve been pouring words by the hundreds into work and publishing with my name, but writing for work doesn’t satisfy me. I’m fortunate that my job is linked to something I enjoy… using words, telling stories… but my vocal chords are taken away and I’m so restricted in what I can and cannot publish.
I know a few other journalists who blog because their reports and features aren’t enough – they don’t do the story justice. Within the word limit, the style and the format I must bow down to… I spend my days thinking about things I’d like to write here.
In the last seven days I’ve composed so many blog posts in my head because I want to make my thoughts tangible: I want to reflect on hearing about my ex being engaged, I want to write about a funny incident on a micro the other day, I want to mourn for Japan. But when I find the time (in fragments of 15 or 20 minutes) I find that I’m not comfortable writing about my boyfriend on a public domain, I find myself wary of what my readers will say (some who don’ t even know me, and more terrifyingly – some who do).
When I first started blogging I did it with the intention of getting practice, after a 4-5 year hiatus and using the excuse “I’m an inspired writer, not a disciplined one” I realized my words were falling away and I was crippling a “talent”. I gave no thought to who my readers would be and the voice I used – it didn’t occur to me if I was writing for you or for me.
Then the blog turned into a travelogue and a substitute for mass emails and now, it’s just a place for my thoughts – but through and through, it’s remained one thing: my very own personal blog. Emphasis on personal. Which mean, technically I am free and I have the freedom to write about whatever I wish, I can write about the abstract, the spiritual, the hurts, the joys, the love, the man, family, friends, work… anything.
But…I’ve noticed a steady rise in subscriptions, number of readers and as happy as I am to see more hits and “exotic” countries on my livefeed, I realize it’s made me very conscious.
I’ve read blogs of people I know, and people I don’t, and I admire their courage – the fact that they can so openly write about feelings and such personal things… reading about the sufferings and details of their life make me feel exposed. I don’t think that I could make myself so vulnerable and post it on the internet when I know there are people reading… which makes me feel like I’m limited within my own space.
But the truth is, I’m the one limiting myself. Sitting here, forcing myself to be honest, I have to remind myself that I’m not writing for anyone’s approval, I have no plans of inspiring people, or starting a revolution, or making a difference to anything through my thoughts…I’m writing for me. Me. And…within my own domain I’m allowed to be selfish and vain and make this about me right? 🙂
So… I guess, the more people who read my crap…er… yay me?! In the meantime, I’m not going to worry about my blog stats and the livefeed. I’m going to write about anything I want to without taking readers into consideration (you can always unsubscribe or just not come to my site!)… I have to admit though – those who don’t know me, I’m worried about my identity being “discovered” and yet…I’m so curious about who you are.