I wrote a personal blog towards the end of college. I was learning how to build websites and fancied myself as a thoughtful person. A blog seemed like a natural project.
The writing was prolific for a short while; but after college I didn’t feel a strong pull to work on it, so I stopped. It’s about eight years later now, and I think it’s time to write again.
Back then, I wrote short reflections on what I saw in myself and the world I assumed I was going into. I felt disingenuous. I could barely see the world, let alone comment on it. I kept writing anyway, but always felt like an imposter.
Now that I’m almost a decade older than that person, I realize I still have no real right to speak to anything, but I don’t feel like an imposter for writing. Writing is the antidote for not having the right to speak to something, because it forces you to put your thoughts in a line, whatever they are, and as long as it’s crafted to express your truth, it’s got a right to exist.
So that’s the basic why and what of this blog. I don’t know what I’ll write until I write it, but it’s about exploring my thoughts and ordering them. The purpose is to grow, to keep myself accountable to what I think rather than what others think I should think, to meet myself again every time I write.
I don’t think social media is a a good place for this kind of writing because it doesn’t foster putting your truth in a line very well. Everything is a statement, no longer than that. And it’s read as a declaration of soul and intent, fodder for judgment displayed with a scorecard. While this is excellent for memes and promoting podcasts, it’s not nearly the same as writing in a deeper form, not selling anything, striving for a truthful moment.
It has to be written with the pressure of being shared, however. It’s not a journal or a diary. It’s an extended thought, approved for viewing, under my name, and on my own platform, far from standards others have set, for the express reason that life is worth examining on my own terms.