Ever since I can remember, I always wanted to be a writer.
That’s probably a legitimately truthful statement. But nobody can refute me, so there we go. Honestly, yes, I dig the writings. I’ve written a lot of things–things that will never see the light of day (well, the light of somebody’s else’s eyes), things that I should delete off every hard drive it wastes space on. But if there’s only one thing you should know about me, it probably isn’t that I’m immensely nostalgic.
Anyway at some point (high school?) the ‘I’m the best writer there ever was’ bubble got popped. Disillusionment (reality) set in. And I realized I was writing glorified fan fiction. Andbutso then I started making pointed efforts to stop borrowing from my favorite books and finally set in to do some legit work of my own. I’ve started at least three novels, none of which are finished and probably will ever be finished. But really, I don’t write to be published and I don’t write to be read. I write to relieve my frustrations or sate my overactive imagination.
So that’s sort of what I’m doing here. I have no delusions about being read. I’m not even sure I want to be read. The subtitle to all these blogs are ‘Just Another WordPress.com Site,’ and I’ll be damned if that’s not true. Just another in a long line of self-indulgence. But I say, if I spend all of my self-indulgence on an internet blog, maybe I can stop being so self-indulgent in reality!
Blogs are like the eco-friendly versions of diaries, anyway, right? I suppose I’m not really doing anything to save in environment because I have at least 20 notebooks at home that are empty, waiting to be full of more pretentious drivel and anxieties and nonsense.
I love paper. I love notebooks. I love writing with gel ink pens. There is something so comforting about an empty sheet of paper to me. It’s an open challenge. Do something amazing with me. The possibilities are limitless. And I suppose, now, the possibilities are limitless on the internet. This madness is an infinite supply (I hope) of empty pages waiting to be filled with anything and everything. This is, I hope, my outlet for anything and everything.
I’ve been told by professional writers that blogging is a great idea because it gets all the bad writing out. That’s an interesting idea. You just write and write and write and get all the bad writing out so only the good writing remains. I’m not sure if I believe this is true. It might be true. I don’t want to be a writer anymore, so I really don’t need to worry about getting all the bad writing out for any reason other than catharsis.
In any case, if ever I stop writing here, you’ll know I’ve returned to paper–my best and oldest friend.