Keeping the faith
Sunday nights have sort of become my "weekend in review" posts. Well, not tonight. It's already been rehashed with the people I care to rehash it with and I don't feel the need to post every little tidbit about my personal life on the internet. Even if I do talk about poop sometimes. I'll bare my soul here. To a point.
The challenge I've been facing this NaBloPoMo has been coming up with original things to write about, or failing that, writing about my life yet still making it interesting and worth reading. I do my best to refuse to be one of those people who talk about how they got an eggnog latte at Starbucks and the barista was cute and flirted with me and then I went to Geordi's house and we got some strippers and... wait. You get the point. You don't need or want to hear every damn little thing about my day. When I do write those posts, I try and hit the highlights and make them fun to read.
On the other hand, I've been struggling mightily to come up with more Geek Memoirs, well written anecdotes about past events in my life, and general commentary on life, love, and happiness which the gone but not forgotten (I hope) warycka.com blog was rather well known for. I've been struggling with a bit of writer's block, so you get more stories about poop and what I had for dinner on Tuesday and how I thought the only thing cooler than "Quantum Of Solace" was the company I saw it with. Which I'm sure my mom and dad like to see (hi mom & dad) since it lets them know I'm doing alright, but it's not the kind of writing I pride myself on.
So I wonder how much of that has to do with some of my best writing coming out of periods in my life where I was struggling. Struggling to find myself, struggling with learning how to be happy, struggling with relationships or life or work. I've grown so much as a person since I started blogging and writing regularly back in 2001. I don't dare say I've become what or whom I want yet, but I certainly have achieved a state of happiness, of satisfaction in my life that I've never had before. I'm comfortable and confident in my own skin for the first time, well, ever.
My tussle with my emotions isn't the only thing that provokes my writing. I've written about happiness, joy, love, and the good fortune and luck I have in my life too.
So I wonder where the magic has gone for me?
And then I look up. And I read what I've just been thinking and spilling out all over the keyboard for the last half hour. And I think back to the reason why I write, why I blog. I realize sometimes... I try too hard to entertain, inform, or pontificate. Sometimes I just need to write to get this crap off my chest and out to the world so I can hear what everyone else has to say about it. Even if you have nothing to say, that's fine. The act of unloading this from my brain into some tangible form is all I need. Then the calm comes over me, the weight lifts, and I relax.
And I keep the faith.
The challenge I've been facing this NaBloPoMo has been coming up with original things to write about, or failing that, writing about my life yet still making it interesting and worth reading. I do my best to refuse to be one of those people who talk about how they got an eggnog latte at Starbucks and the barista was cute and flirted with me and then I went to Geordi's house and we got some strippers and... wait. You get the point. You don't need or want to hear every damn little thing about my day. When I do write those posts, I try and hit the highlights and make them fun to read.
On the other hand, I've been struggling mightily to come up with more Geek Memoirs, well written anecdotes about past events in my life, and general commentary on life, love, and happiness which the gone but not forgotten (I hope) warycka.com blog was rather well known for. I've been struggling with a bit of writer's block, so you get more stories about poop and what I had for dinner on Tuesday and how I thought the only thing cooler than "Quantum Of Solace" was the company I saw it with. Which I'm sure my mom and dad like to see (hi mom & dad) since it lets them know I'm doing alright, but it's not the kind of writing I pride myself on.
So I wonder how much of that has to do with some of my best writing coming out of periods in my life where I was struggling. Struggling to find myself, struggling with learning how to be happy, struggling with relationships or life or work. I've grown so much as a person since I started blogging and writing regularly back in 2001. I don't dare say I've become what or whom I want yet, but I certainly have achieved a state of happiness, of satisfaction in my life that I've never had before. I'm comfortable and confident in my own skin for the first time, well, ever.
My tussle with my emotions isn't the only thing that provokes my writing. I've written about happiness, joy, love, and the good fortune and luck I have in my life too.
So I wonder where the magic has gone for me?
And then I look up. And I read what I've just been thinking and spilling out all over the keyboard for the last half hour. And I think back to the reason why I write, why I blog. I realize sometimes... I try too hard to entertain, inform, or pontificate. Sometimes I just need to write to get this crap off my chest and out to the world so I can hear what everyone else has to say about it. Even if you have nothing to say, that's fine. The act of unloading this from my brain into some tangible form is all I need. Then the calm comes over me, the weight lifts, and I relax.
And I keep the faith.