Let us journey forth once again ... but try to hold the pretentious douchebag.
It's been quite a long time since I've posted here.
I've said something like that almost every time I return after a period of long absence. Each and every time I do, I swear (at least to myself), that I will make more of a conscious effort to post, to continue updating, to make use of my little corner of the internet. But each time, that resolution dies practically the instant I leave the webpage.
I have no excuses. I can't blame a lack of time - while I never post anymore, I am constantly online, keeping updated with the posts of people more dedicated than I. I can't even really blame laziness. There have been many times where I've sat at a computer, urging myself to post, to write something, to prove I am a thinking, feeling human being capable of translating thought to (web)page. But each time, I am stopped. Stopped by the fact I find it impossible to fathom people reading my words, and actually finding enjoyment in the mundane banality of it.
Because why else would I post? I must want people to read what I write, otherwise I would not chose such an open and public forum for the happenings of my days. I have a hardcover journal, full of entries just as poorly written and prepubescently self-entitled as the ones the world can find here. But that one is mine, and mine alone. I can be as whiny as I feel, but I will be the only one to ever read it, the only one to ever truly know the extent of my selfish self-indulgences. And if my indulgences are all written away where the world may never find them, it does not leave much left to post here.
I am a mundane individual - I don't like talking about myself, because I don't find myself interesting. The things I do, by and large, are not all that noteworthy. That isn't to say that nothing happens in my life - just these few months past, my life has had both significant changes and small moments of win, all that could very easily have been updated for any livejournalian to share. But there was something holding me back, something that made me feel like my life wasn't worth the few minutes it would take to inform the world about my happenings.
I guess it all comes back to seeing myself as mundane.
I'm trying to change, to start seeing myself as others (apparently) see me - as somewhat interesting and worth the time. It's slow going, and it'll take time, but I'm willing to make the effort. And I think I've decided a good place to start is here, in my own little corner, telling the internet about my days.
So be prepared. While updates will most likely still be sporadic and disjointed in nature, they will, at the very least, be more frequent in spamming your friends page.
Hmm .. I seem to have gone from self-entitled prepubescence to pretentious douchebagary. I just can't win. :/
I've said something like that almost every time I return after a period of long absence. Each and every time I do, I swear (at least to myself), that I will make more of a conscious effort to post, to continue updating, to make use of my little corner of the internet. But each time, that resolution dies practically the instant I leave the webpage.
I have no excuses. I can't blame a lack of time - while I never post anymore, I am constantly online, keeping updated with the posts of people more dedicated than I. I can't even really blame laziness. There have been many times where I've sat at a computer, urging myself to post, to write something, to prove I am a thinking, feeling human being capable of translating thought to (web)page. But each time, I am stopped. Stopped by the fact I find it impossible to fathom people reading my words, and actually finding enjoyment in the mundane banality of it.
Because why else would I post? I must want people to read what I write, otherwise I would not chose such an open and public forum for the happenings of my days. I have a hardcover journal, full of entries just as poorly written and prepubescently self-entitled as the ones the world can find here. But that one is mine, and mine alone. I can be as whiny as I feel, but I will be the only one to ever read it, the only one to ever truly know the extent of my selfish self-indulgences. And if my indulgences are all written away where the world may never find them, it does not leave much left to post here.
I am a mundane individual - I don't like talking about myself, because I don't find myself interesting. The things I do, by and large, are not all that noteworthy. That isn't to say that nothing happens in my life - just these few months past, my life has had both significant changes and small moments of win, all that could very easily have been updated for any livejournalian to share. But there was something holding me back, something that made me feel like my life wasn't worth the few minutes it would take to inform the world about my happenings.
I guess it all comes back to seeing myself as mundane.
I'm trying to change, to start seeing myself as others (apparently) see me - as somewhat interesting and worth the time. It's slow going, and it'll take time, but I'm willing to make the effort. And I think I've decided a good place to start is here, in my own little corner, telling the internet about my days.
So be prepared. While updates will most likely still be sporadic and disjointed in nature, they will, at the very least, be more frequent in spamming your friends page.
Hmm .. I seem to have gone from self-entitled prepubescence to pretentious douchebagary. I just can't win. :/