Lucy I'm Home!
I can't believe I haven't written anything in over three years. Blogging was always a vehicle for me to de-stress, get my thoughts and views out there, and to have fun. It became a chore when it started to be less about writing and more about whose page I visited and commented on. So I stopped. I haven't even looked at this site in three years. Not once. My words, my thoughts, my poetry, my feelings good and bad, have been sitting here stagnant. Before I wrote this I reread every post I ever wrote. I relived a lot of the things that I had forgotten about. That’s the thing about writing about your life; it forever preserves the past so in the future you can reminisce. For instance, I had forgotten a lot of what happened between my son’s father and me. That happened so long ago it seems light years away. So much has changed that I don’t even know where to begin. This really isn’t the catch up post though. I’ll write that later.
I can't say I will start to write regularly again. What I do know is it feels good to sit here and write this post. It feels good to be writing again period. Writing has always been my outlet, my cathartic exercise. I've always loved it because it kept me sane. It's funny because before I wrote this post I checked some of the pages of people I regularly corresponded with and everyone seems to have abandoned writing regularly. I think this whole blogging thing got to be a popularity contest. Not that I didn’t love it when people read my blog and commented because I did; I just didn’t want it to be all about that. If no one reads what you write does that make it less relevant? Less real? I don’t know the answer to that one. Let me know if you do (that was a joke… did you get it?). The thing of it is, I love to read what other people are writing about. Call it voyeuristic but I love having a window into people’s lives; especially if they are going through anything remotely similar to what I am experiencing. It makes me feel better like I’m not the only idiot out there fumbling through life.
I can't say I will start to write regularly again. What I do know is it feels good to sit here and write this post. It feels good to be writing again period. Writing has always been my outlet, my cathartic exercise. I've always loved it because it kept me sane. It's funny because before I wrote this post I checked some of the pages of people I regularly corresponded with and everyone seems to have abandoned writing regularly. I think this whole blogging thing got to be a popularity contest. Not that I didn’t love it when people read my blog and commented because I did; I just didn’t want it to be all about that. If no one reads what you write does that make it less relevant? Less real? I don’t know the answer to that one. Let me know if you do (that was a joke… did you get it?). The thing of it is, I love to read what other people are writing about. Call it voyeuristic but I love having a window into people’s lives; especially if they are going through anything remotely similar to what I am experiencing. It makes me feel better like I’m not the only idiot out there fumbling through life.
posted by Meka at 7:54 PM
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