572.
Recently, one of my "new" grad school friends told me that she couldn't sleep one night and so she proceeded to read all of my journal entries. I kinda of laughed and said something like , "Oh, there are way too many of them." Which doesn't even make any sense, but I said it. What I think I meant was "Um, excuse me there are 571 entries - I don't think there is any way you could have read them all. And why in the heck would you even want too?" Either way, it doesn't really matter what I said or did not say - what matters are the feelings that came afterwards.
At first, I think I felt a little flattered. I started this blog in 2006 and at times it's been an extension of myself. It's a cool thing to write in and a convenient way to share parts of myself with other people.
Then, I started to feel a little weird. A little...panicked. Not for any reason concerning her, but more for myself. She and I have only known each other since the beginning of the school year and, as a result, we only know so much about each other. What if I come off in my blogs as a total weirdo? I write about God a lot more than I talk about Him - do I sound like some kind of religious fanatic? If there is one thing I am not, it's a fanatic about religion. I've used this blog to capture my feelings on some of the worst days of my life. Do I sound like a whiny, sniveling idiot? The thoughts went on and on.
I should be clear that I do not, in any way, think this person was (or will) judge me for anything in this blog. This is more about my feelings associated with this collection of words.
As mentioned previously, I read my old entries pretty often. Obviously not all of them, since there are 571, but sometimes when I can't sleep at night or when I am trying to remember a specific thing that happened, I'll click through and see what I come across. I used to think, "This blog is SO me! Who cares if no one likes it? This is about my feelings and my emotions and my journey." And to some extent that is all very true. But on the other hand, when I am reading certain entries I cringe. I didn't always write for myself, and it is painfully obviously to me. Sometimes I wrote with a (not-so-well) hidden agenda. Sometimes I wrote fiction and called it the truth. Sometimes I tried to lie to myself. Sometimes I succeeded.
I want to note that these are the exceptions to the rule - the majority of the previous 571 entires are the truth; extensions of myself and my life. My real attempt to record and save my feelings, no matter how painful or ugly they may have been at the time. This blog IS my truth, most of the time. I did get caught up in some game playing along the way, and the truth in that makes me sick. I lost little parts of who I am and what this whole blog experience is supposed to be about. I started writing for someone else. I started writing around other people. I put my truth on hold because it got uncomfortable sometimes.
All of these are forgivable sins; I realize that. I only hurt myself by not always writing my truth.
I need to remember: The truth of the matter is that I HAVE evolved and changed and been immensely challenged since I started this thing in 2006. I've used it as a crutch and a lifeline and a therapist. I've used it as an announcement, means of celebration, and trusted confidant. I've been broken, silly, cocky, religious, ridiculous, sad, weird and a whooooole bunch of other things that make up this human experience. I think I'm okay with that, finally. Maybe.
"In all the things that I went through in my life, good or bad, they were shaping me for today. For today, I am better than yesterday and tommorrow, I will be the best." -Yandiswa Liza Molose
At first, I think I felt a little flattered. I started this blog in 2006 and at times it's been an extension of myself. It's a cool thing to write in and a convenient way to share parts of myself with other people.
Then, I started to feel a little weird. A little...panicked. Not for any reason concerning her, but more for myself. She and I have only known each other since the beginning of the school year and, as a result, we only know so much about each other. What if I come off in my blogs as a total weirdo? I write about God a lot more than I talk about Him - do I sound like some kind of religious fanatic? If there is one thing I am not, it's a fanatic about religion. I've used this blog to capture my feelings on some of the worst days of my life. Do I sound like a whiny, sniveling idiot? The thoughts went on and on.
I should be clear that I do not, in any way, think this person was (or will) judge me for anything in this blog. This is more about my feelings associated with this collection of words.
As mentioned previously, I read my old entries pretty often. Obviously not all of them, since there are 571, but sometimes when I can't sleep at night or when I am trying to remember a specific thing that happened, I'll click through and see what I come across. I used to think, "This blog is SO me! Who cares if no one likes it? This is about my feelings and my emotions and my journey." And to some extent that is all very true. But on the other hand, when I am reading certain entries I cringe. I didn't always write for myself, and it is painfully obviously to me. Sometimes I wrote with a (not-so-well) hidden agenda. Sometimes I wrote fiction and called it the truth. Sometimes I tried to lie to myself. Sometimes I succeeded.
I want to note that these are the exceptions to the rule - the majority of the previous 571 entires are the truth; extensions of myself and my life. My real attempt to record and save my feelings, no matter how painful or ugly they may have been at the time. This blog IS my truth, most of the time. I did get caught up in some game playing along the way, and the truth in that makes me sick. I lost little parts of who I am and what this whole blog experience is supposed to be about. I started writing for someone else. I started writing around other people. I put my truth on hold because it got uncomfortable sometimes.
All of these are forgivable sins; I realize that. I only hurt myself by not always writing my truth.
I need to remember: The truth of the matter is that I HAVE evolved and changed and been immensely challenged since I started this thing in 2006. I've used it as a crutch and a lifeline and a therapist. I've used it as an announcement, means of celebration, and trusted confidant. I've been broken, silly, cocky, religious, ridiculous, sad, weird and a whooooole bunch of other things that make up this human experience. I think I'm okay with that, finally. Maybe.
"In all the things that I went through in my life, good or bad, they were shaping me for today. For today, I am better than yesterday and tommorrow, I will be the best." -Yandiswa Liza Molose