Also known as: Dissecting the reason why I am probably not blogging that much here
The thing about having new blogs is how shiny and blank it is. It’s supposed to be easier to write in, it’s supposed to have more possibilities than old ones do. It’s a blank slate, easy to mold, easy to bring to a new direction compared to having an old one and reinventing it.
I think I’m having some kind of problem with that. Ideally, I should be able to write here more than I usually do, because it’s fresh and blank and all that. I should be posting more, writing more, but I find that every time I wanted to write, I just don’t feel like it. I know I’m not obligated to write every single boring detail of my life here. I just feel like I’m neglecting this blog and not making the most out of it, especially if I know I can write something. I know I can. I know somewhere there, I have the words to fill this blog with thing that matter, not always to anyone, but to me.
But the problem:
I suppose I may really be pressuring myself. Or maybe because I don’t really know what the point of having this blog is about for me. I know the point of my book blog and I’m glad that somehow that’s still going strong. But what about this blog? Why didn’t I just close the personal blog side and just focus on book blogging, which is something I really enjoy doing? Why is this still here?
I don’t know, really, except maybe it’s because I love words. And maybe it’s because I can’t really be bothered to sit down and write in a journal when it’s easier and faster to write in a blog. I love writing in a journal, don’t get me wrong, but we all have to admit that it’s not always easy to find time to write there. It’s why blogging is so attractive because it’s easier and it’s faster. And as much as bloggers say that they really write for themselves, you can’t deny that there is attraction in knowing that there is some audience. Maybe there’s this part of me — the writer part of me — that wishes somewhere out there, someone will stumble upon these words and feel better. Or at least, feel some sort of kinship and find comfort in knowing that they’re not alone, just like how I find comfort when I read blogs such as hers or hers.
I guess my point is…I need to know the point of this thing. I wrote about this a year ago but I guess I never had an answer. But maybe this is the time for me to know what that answer is, right? Just like I know I can never stop reading, I also know that I can’t stop writing. And since fiction isn’t my only outlet…here’s the blog. Can this be qualified as creative non-fiction?
I guess I should really ease the pressure on myself to write the way other people do, and just write. I’m me and they’re them. As much as I remember that I am writing for an audience, I must never forget that I am writing for myself, too. Sounds contradictory? Yeah, it is. But if you’ve been blogging for a while, you should probably get this.
Or not. I apologize in advance if that didn’t make sense.
So…let’s try this again. No pressure. More coherent entries to follow. But first, I’m going to Baguio this weekend. See you when I get back. :)