#1
Writing has always been important to me. Ever since I realized that it is the form of communication over which I possess the most mastery, there has become a subconscious urge to express all of my life's most profound (and mundane) happenings and thoughts through text.
Because of this, I am a chronic, habitual creator of blogs and purveyor of notebooks. There are few things more delightful to me than the smell and feel and emptiness and potential of a brand new notebook, or the satisfaction of cultivating the mood of a personal blog that is quintessentially me. I have never had a problem filling up a notebook. But I am well known among my circle of loved ones to fail at maintaining the blogs I create.
I used to let that bother me. I used to look at the failure of maintaining a blog as a huge contributor to my general failure at being a successful human who fancies herself a writer. That's my anxiety talking. Anxiety. It's always been there for me, just like my writing. But there's something, perhaps it's my age or just the sheer volume of blogs I have started and let go of, that's allowed me to stop letting that be such a bother anymore. I can look back at all of them and simply acknowledge the fulfillment they gave me at the moment of their creation, and in the moments that I wrote the few posts on each of them. While they may not all persist or even exist now, they meant something to me at some moment at some point in my life. They mean that I tried. And trying isn't failing.
So here I am. Again. I'm not going to make an attempt at what number this blog is, or make any promises about maintaining it. I'm not going to make any commitments about the subjects I plan to cover, or the goals I want it to meet. I'm just going to say that I feel like writing. I need to write. And this is where I'm going to do it for now.
Because of this, I am a chronic, habitual creator of blogs and purveyor of notebooks. There are few things more delightful to me than the smell and feel and emptiness and potential of a brand new notebook, or the satisfaction of cultivating the mood of a personal blog that is quintessentially me. I have never had a problem filling up a notebook. But I am well known among my circle of loved ones to fail at maintaining the blogs I create.
I used to let that bother me. I used to look at the failure of maintaining a blog as a huge contributor to my general failure at being a successful human who fancies herself a writer. That's my anxiety talking. Anxiety. It's always been there for me, just like my writing. But there's something, perhaps it's my age or just the sheer volume of blogs I have started and let go of, that's allowed me to stop letting that be such a bother anymore. I can look back at all of them and simply acknowledge the fulfillment they gave me at the moment of their creation, and in the moments that I wrote the few posts on each of them. While they may not all persist or even exist now, they meant something to me at some moment at some point in my life. They mean that I tried. And trying isn't failing.
So here I am. Again. I'm not going to make an attempt at what number this blog is, or make any promises about maintaining it. I'm not going to make any commitments about the subjects I plan to cover, or the goals I want it to meet. I'm just going to say that I feel like writing. I need to write. And this is where I'm going to do it for now.
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