I must first start off my saying this first sentence in itself is an ambitious effort. However, this is my blog, and within you’ll find a quest of information ranging from personal to highly critical (albeit without a twinge of disrespect or put-downs). These here are my thoughts. They are my own. I’m permitting myself to play nice and share, only if you promise to share.
And no, you can’t have them.
As I said, they are my own.
I’ve been writing in online journals since 2004, back when Xanga had a platform I found interesting enough to write in. I was in it for the eyeballs. I hoped that my commentary or thoughts would spark some interesting people to critique, remark, or comment. And, for a time that’s what happened. But, inconsistency and mature responsibilities reared it’s head, this time in the guise of college, work, and life, and my time spent on Xanga became few and far in-between.
I won’t sugarcoat my next thoughts, but it’s difficult maintaining a blog–let alone an online version, even as your social life spirals as high as Baumgartner. With my busyness came the inability for me to keep up with sharing my thoughts, and thus my Xanga account floundered, listed, gargled, and came to rest at the body of the proverbial ocean of “other shit to do”.
However, it didn’t die entirely in existence. I would revisit it every now and then, in between great moments of personal victory or revulsion; inquisition or wonderment, to remind myself of the trail I traveled( or was dragged upon) which led me to this moment.
What I kept out of my Xanga journal, and subsequent Blogger journal, was my personal life–my personal inveigh. I didn’t deem it necessary to name drop, or call into by-line question the importance of a feeling( whether that feeling be a literary display of jealousy, rage, doubt, or other). I would rather just recline in my chair and wield control over what I disclosed–leaving all personal thoughts for myself or friends who were privy to such information.
Now, I live in a new state( figuratively and actually speaking), and find it necessary to examine the things I’ve done in the past, and the things I’m predestined to do. At times I am quiet, despite the stories some of my closest few will air, but I am oft-regarded to sit and muse over the things I’ve done.
This, of course, I don’t do so others can worry, but as a way for me to collect my thoughts.
My life is a book yet to be complete, as the narrative of my novel is not up to me, or placed in order for me to understand.
In spite of this, how do you say..opposition, I find times enjoyable–as this blog will illustrate. Sooner or later.