Wednesday, July 13

My blog and I

Sometimes I get on here, and I'm like okay, let's push something today. Then after about 30 minutes, those creative juices start to dissipate and those five lines don't seem to cut it anymore. So, I chalk it up as a loss and move on. That'll be put in my draft for a while, depending if I want to move on it, rework it and insert into a larger piece, or just discard it in disgust. I had to put this speech into a separate draft just so it doesn't get thrown into the bunch. Sometimes I compartmentalize a batch of shitty things I've written and turn it into a singular piece. Surprisingly, I'll receive a text message saying how good that post was. How?! Then I end up questioning my capacity and/or your credibility. Am I good enough? Who are you to say? What does it matter what you think? I'm writing this as an artful outlet, aren't I? I'm not doing this for appraise; they don't make accolades for being true to yourself. Then, how come I address someone in the reading audience with the little facets only they could recognize. The little details that my attention-seeking personality screams, "Hey, look at me. Look what I can do. What do you think?" I'm just dared to be scrutinized by friends, family, and strangers. But, I'm also trying to be discrete about it. Just like how I'm afraid that someone will randomly click on this link via twitter and find out the type of person my writings allow me to be, but sort of wishing they would. I don't even post on twitter when I publish anymore because my followers have increased. I'm playful in public, bashful about my blog, but brave in my writings. I think that's how it should be to add to the fact that you never really know someone. This is my element of surprise. I can only imagine what would happen if I were to be married for 20 years and my wife were to find this blog. It's not like I'm out here advertising it. Good for her though; welcome to my world. I would hate it if someone came up to me and said, "I didn't know you were a writer," because I'm not. I write, yes. I'm a writer, no. I'm creative, no. I can be creative, yes. Writers are both creative and smart. If there is no adjective I hate being called most is smart. Saying that someone is smart is probably the second highest praise you give a person lead by rich and succeeded by nice, at least in this day in age. Rich, smart, and nice. I only want to be nice. Being "called" smart is such a burden. If you're smart you can't ever stop learning or enjoy anything. You'd have to evaluate and critique everything on an academic level. If you correct someone, they think that you think that you're better than them. If you don't know something, then you're not as smart. And then there's a such thing as being too smart for your own good. I believe that someone smart said, "ignorance is bliss." I don't know why I stayed on smart for so long, I haven't been called that for a long time. Even when I was considered smart in school, I didn't want to be associated with it. I wanted to blend in and not be brought attention to. They all would see how different I am, but not trying to be. That's why I don't do my hair and dress vanilla. I don't need the extra spotlight. I don't need that link to my blogspot account, but secretly I want to have it there. So, you can see another side and maybe even relate, but won't say anything. It's been a weird relationship with this blog over the years. This is how I stay true to myself, by staying true to what I write. That's all any of us can do. I was tempted and am still tempted to discard this whole thing, as I feel like I've visited this before. I won't. For long time readers, this is just another emphasized reiteration, and for first time readers, this will encapsulate my first 100 post so do not read. Just kidding, but really, don't read. That's enough for now. Who knows, maybe this blog will get rid some of the hate and hunger in the world, because God knows there's too much of it. God bless.