Every year, I say to myself that this year I will definitely start a blog.
And every year, I never make good on that promise.
On the one hand, I just never got round to making one. For years now, I’ve kept a Livejournal – which I still use for keeping up with my fandoms and for posting fanfiction – and I’ve become intimitely associated with the name I’d set myself up there with, but for the blog, I didn’t want to keep that identity.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m ashamed of it, because I’m not. For all the ignorant, harebrained things I may have said on there, I think of them fondly as a learning curve, as the steps I took in my journey of growing up. All the same, I wanted the blog – the private me – to be separate from the fangirl me, and the first step to doing so is to create a separate identity.
But I didn’t know what identity to go with.
On the other hand, sometimes I remember my wish, and then proceed to talk myself out of making one. After all, what could I write a blog for?
I am not, in any way, shape or form, a particularly interesting person: I don’t take photographs as a hobby, even though I own a DSLR which I am very fond of and occasionally use to take pretty pictures with; I don’t make cross stitch designs or knitting patterns in my free time, although I have a lot of things that I want to make that don’t currently have a written down design; I don’t even think I write well enough to run a serious writing blog with, I just enjoy the process of writing down my thoughts in the form of fiction or creating large universes that I do not have the talent to work with outside of my mind.
A few days ago, I started thinking about starting a blog again. And this time, I thought about one question very hard: why did I want to write a blog? What would be the purpose of this blog?
I thought about it, and thought about it, and I…
It’s safe to say that I don’t have a definite, coherent answer, but I have some thoughts.
My first thought is that my thoughts are growing too big for my private Twitter account. There are things that I want to say, ideas that grow beyond the 140 character limit of Twitter, thoughts that I want to explore fully before I decide what I want to do with them, and I can’t do that on Twitter. I’m flighty and easily distracted, and I know that if I kept my words and my thoughts to Twitter, I would never be able to explore them deep enough to resolve them, to decide if they’re significant enough to hold on to or something that I can let go.
My second thought is that, along with many other promises I’ve made myself as part of my New Year’s not-Resolution 2015, I want to stop internalising, to stop stopping myself from analysing my thoughts too deeply. For all the opinions that I share, both in my public and private Twitter accounts, I think that I talk very little about me, about who I am, what I think. If I’m being honest, I think very little about me as a person. I’ve lived 22 years on this planet, and the only thing I’m certain about me is that I do things that feel right to me, but I’ve never thought about why that feels right to me. I have no justification, and that’s beginning to bother me.
So, long story short, this blog is about me. Or rather, this blog is for me, to me, about me; a long letter from me to me, if you will.
It’s for my thoughts, those flickers that spark at obscene o’clock when I should be sleeping.
It’s for my opinions, those words that I want to say about a certain topic but didn’t, for whatever reason.
It’s for the things I like, those songs and books and pictures that I see and read and hear, and why I like them.
It’s for the things I dislike, and what it is that bothers me about them.
It’s my journey to better understand me, and isn’t understanding the first step to being okay with yourself?