so, in a previous
post on another
blog of mine, I reffered to myself as a writer, and ever since I've felt increasingly strange about it. Partly, I guess, out of paranoia, or worrying too much what people think, as I tend to do... Also, I'm afraid that there's things that I see in myself that aren't really gifts at all, but mere aspirations that I'll never attain. I fear that anyone who reads my blog wouldn't think of me as a writer, and if they read that post they'd either be confused or think I was boastful or something... Now, I know I have a pretty low self esteem, but aside from that, I want to note that when I say writer, I mostly mean I am a person with a habbit of writing, and I tend to process things better when i journal or sing or write about them... I don't mean that I consider myself to be some great "writer", or a novelist, or even someone with any noteworthy talent... It's just something I do, and maybe one day it might amount to something, but that isn't my goal.. at least not currently.
Since I was fairly young, I can't remember when exactly, I would stay up late hours, either on the computer or with a notebook and pen, and just write.... sometimes just random thought, sometimes intentional poetry, sometimes stories, sometimes just venting... but whatever it was it has always been this thing that just comes over me. It's something where I'm never really quite sure what I'm gonna write till i'm done... I mean it usually starts with a few words, arranged in such a way that strikes my attention, and I start to spin off of that, and the things that end up being written are like these hidden parts of me that were dying to be released into the open air and once they are, and I read them with my eyes or out loud and hear them with my ears, this change comes... I start to understand myself and the world around me a little better, relate to myself or someone else, in a way I never did before... Maybe this is odd, I don't know... but this is what I meant by being a writer.. I actually don't know anything about writing in a litterary sense, as like a story teller or a novelist or anything like that.. I just write because I feel in words I know we all 'think' in words, but I sometimes don't know how I think or feel till I can write it all out. I process things and draw conclusions and make sense of reality through the act of forcing the jumbled mess in my head called thoughts or emotions, into words and ideas untill all of a sudden all that chaos makes some sort of sense and even sometimes becomes something beautiful that I might even come back to time and again as a reference of clarity, or to try and recapture whatever glimpse of love and or longing I had at the time... or fear or hate, concern distress... whatever I'm going through that makes my little write self perk up and get all wordy and stuff up there in my head till I can't stand it any more...
anyway, I've been feeling a little vulnerable about it lately, and everytime i go to blog I think about the fact that someone somewhere is gonna read it and judge it in some way, and I freeze up...
When I first started this blog thing I wasn't sure what to expect. I certainly wasn't trying to gain any sort of recognition for some great secret talent no one knew about, but were all deprived of experiencing. I just thought it would be a great way for me to maybe get back into the groove of writing, since I actually haven't hardly written at all since the birth of my first baby. I almost wasn't gonna tell anybody (partly out of melloncholy 'nobody loves me, nobody will read it' and parly thinking i'd be more free in wha I wrote), but then I got the idea that it might be fun, and I was hoping it would prove a wonderful way for friends and family to read up on my life, and see new pictures, and hopefully even comment and create a way of keeping in touch with everybody, since I'm so bad at it, and I get tired of repeating all the same stories over and over again...
And then, seeing the way it has created this great little network of sorts, composed of a group of friends of mine, that are almost like family but have moved apart from each other mostly as of late, all of whom I dearly love, It's now become this new thing, similar to the first discovery, but mixed in with a kind of social club... I like it, but I also get bummed out that a lot of the people I sent the email to (not in the mommy blogger club) never comment on it... and I feel like I might be getting too emotionally attatched... I mean, so what if some people don't comment, it doesn't nesescarilly mean they hated reading it, or think I'm a weirdo, or that I'm dumb, or a bad writer, or that they are just uninterested...
Who knows what it means...
But I wish I just didn't care... I wish I didn't have this anxiety every time I go to write something, as if there's this great anticipation looming over me, waiting for me to really write something, something of value, sometjing worth reading, something moving, touching, deep, heartfeltand true... human...
When I feel that way, it makes me just want to go crawl in my bed, curl up in a ball and cry... hiding...
I'm not sure if it's more because there's some people that don't comment, or that there's people that do, and know exactly who every time, and I start to wonder if I should be writing to them specifically... like it's all for them or something.
This whole blogging thing is weird...
I can't honestly say that I've ever cared so much about impressing anyone before... And even though it's no one in specific, I still fear I'm constantly letting them down, and to call myself a writer was a smack in their face... or mine...
