Blogging

This, my “blog”, has become a little bit of a burden. I feel like there might be a better word to explain it, but “burden” fits it for now. I’ve had it since 2013, and have used it for many different purposes. But now I feel like it’s just sitting here, wasting away, because I don’t know how to use it, what to write about, who my audience is, and all of these questions keep burdening me to the point where I just don’t write for it anymore.

I have a private blog that I write in almost every day- just super random thoughts, notes, reminders, etc. I also journal still. But writing for a public-ish audience still frightens me.

I definitely miss the days of writing papers for school. Researching topics, Writing about the potential meanings of books… Learning about the world and exploring it deeper by expressing myself on paper.

Now that I’m not in school and I have a job and busy schedule, it’s hard to find the time to just sit down and write, let alone think of a compelling topic to write about. I think writing solely about myself must be a bore. But then again, the purpose is for me getting my voice out there, and finding my vibe along the way. I can’t give up. I can’t lose hope. I’m just going to keep writing.

My Journey…

So, I don’t really know who reads this… I don’t advertise this site/blog to barely any of my friends, it seems to intimate for that. But I feel comfortable with the blogging community, maybe because they don’t know me on a personal level. Sometimes it’s easier to share with strangers and fellow writers. And there’s just some things I need to get out/explain. I have not posted anything here for literally 18 months. Why, you ask? I was in an 18 month structured therapeutic community for addiction and alcohol dependency. I went without social media literally for a year and a half. It wasn’t allowed- no facebook, no email, no nothing online.

Now I’m back, and getting online now is almost overwhelming. I want to get back into reading and writing… It’s my passion, it’s who I am… While I was gone it seemed like a lot of my passion and motivation for this creativity dissipated. I did a lot of work on myself, though. Picking back up on this has been a little more difficult than I foresaw. A lot of what I used to write was inspired by fear, hurt, shame, loss…. I feel that when I tap back into that, my creativity flows easier and smoother; it’s more profound. But I also want to be inspired to write when I’m happy, feeling blessed and excited.

I’m still on a journey of finding myself… What do I want? Who am I? Who do I want to be? Right now I’m just going through the motions… making sure I stay sober, making sure my maladaptive thoughts don’t get in my way, making sure I have my priorities right… What a crazy, unexpected, long, and amazing journey this has been and will continue to be.

Getting Right

In attempts to avoid folding within myself
I sit numbly
Your possible rejection of me
Collides into a forgotten, yet nostalgic fear
Creating unforgotten insecurities
Memories of the past start flooding in
But the boulders are too high and sharp
The lack of words become deafening
I just want to cover my ears
And cry out of relief
Over holding in the washed up emotions
That I tried so hard to flee from
Spending countless days and hours
Looking in and Distracting from myself
Getting over someone, and
Getting right with me.

Something

“Stream-of-consciousness writing a la Jack Kerouac is a meditation tool. Writing about regrets over the past or fears of the future, no.”

Feelings hypnotize unsatisfied ruler of my brain. Please don’t come down here there is really something wrong with my brain. Today, at least. Well, most days. Unconventional, unacceptable as “normal” let me apologize now before you decide to run away. Sometimes I wish I could run away, take a vacation and escape from the pounding confusion, lifting the fog that’s in my head. I used to be afraid to showcase these things, people wouldn’t understand. But still face to face I have to pretend that I belong in this world with these socially acceptable behaviors. I really have no idea what to do.

Awkward

Silence stills me-

us-

sharing the same space,

in the same room.

Unknowing of what

to say, he pulls out his

device which connects

him to the technological outside

world. A connection that

makes more sense

than what’s going on in this room.

Something to fill his mind,

something to take his time,

something to allow him to rewind.

 

Surrounded by the awkward,

the silence,

I could mutter a sound-

to break the confusion.

Instead I give him

his own satisfaction-

and start staring at my

screen-

and write.

The only thing that

makes sense to me.

Ripples

“Every word an author writes causes ripples, like tossing a stone into a pond. And you don’t know where they’ll go, or who they’ll touch, or when they might come back to you. I think everything you do is kind of like that, too.” -Natalie Goldberg

Writing

Placing words into what you feel
Cause the layers of your core to peel
Whether it’s  Anger that distraughts  you
or Confusion that betrays you
It’s Anxiety that simmers within
The good angel seems to never win
It’s the Sadness that overwhelms for no reason
and Loneliness seems to be it’s closest cousin
Sometimes all of these things that are unseen
Seep out of the pores altogether, making it Mean
A scene never meant to be seen
The only Context that gives it most Meaning
Is putting the text on paper, so Rich, so Gleaming
It does its part to soothe the Heart
and transforms it intrinsically into Art.
It takes your inner bag of shit
and becomes the Number One Smash Hit.
Or you can keep it to yourself in private
To make your journal utterly vibrant
No way is Right, no way is Wrong
As long as you make it sing like a Song.

Random Thoughts

Do you ever wonder…

what you would

become

if you

did

not blog

did not tweet

did not facebook?

What if…

thoughts,

your stream

of conscious,

could be made

visible, online, for

all to see? Would you

be embarrassed? Or

embrace it? Do

our thoughts

really,

truly,

belong

to ourselves

anymore? What

is writing becoming?

What is writing?

What are

your

thoughts?