|Looking like a fat lady in a moo moo. Writing in |
Santa Catalina, Panama.
Back to the point of this specific post. This blog began as a way to easily share my travel experiences with my family and friends and whomever else accidentally happened upon this page during their Google search. I would post photos, share stories, cultural events, and everyday life as I lived abroad in various countries. This blog has the few precious photos of my time in Guatemala that I posted before my camera became the property of a thief, breaking my heart into pieces. I also have used Barbers Without Borders to document any other shorter trips I've taken as well as write about everyday life in USA.
But why do I write now, publicly? This has had my mind going all day... I am living in Denver, I am not taking any exotic trips anytime soon, so why am I so inclined to write, to randomly ramble about whatever the hell is in my head?
I do, definitely, do this first and foremost, for myself. Typing allows things to come out in a way that handwriting does not(and vice versa). I do this to preserve memories. I do this to be goddamned hilarious(haven't you read some of this shit?!). I do this in order to challenge myself creatively. I do this to challenge myself to be committed to something that is 100% good for me, for so few things are. And of those few things, I struggle to remain committed.
Writing is something I can do everyday regardless of the weather. Writing is something I can do to express things/stories/situations/feelings that might otherwise become forever lost in the vast expanse of my overactive brain. The internet is a mighty fine storage facility after all. I have nearly 200 posts on this blog and when I return to the years past to read them, I have completely forgotten about a lot of them and am delighted to be reading my own story. First and foremost, for myself.
The question remains: Do I truly care if no one ever reads this stuff? That is difficult to answer. I am, ultimately, publishing this stuff on the world wide web so some part of me must care if someone reads it. There is something unique in that literally anyone can get at it. They can judge, they can laugh, they can do whatsoever they please with my voluntary vulnerability. Because of this, I have been careful writing mostly fun and silly things. But as of late, I have been more and more bold, truly not caring what others may think of of my overuse of the word fuck. I suppose part of my reason to write publicly is to see just how far I will go, just how free I will allow myself to be, all the while knowing that the internet and its freedom can and does seriously backfire for many people. I have had at least one situation where what I wrote was taken out of context, manipulated and used against me. I won't go back, I will continue to push my own limits, create my own personal writing challenges, see just how far I will go, how deep I will pull from to write something of substance(or not)according to my own standards.
The right reasons to write don't come down to right or wrong. I have the right to write which in itself makes it right. I write right handed, does that count?
|My notebook on the sand. Full moon walk, Egyptian Sahara.|