There are people who come to me and ask how I feel so compelled to write all the time. I always find it a little crazy they would ask something like that, because I find that the answer is so simple. I have never really thought about the process of blogging because writing’s always been second-nature to me. When I write, it comes from a place to convey thoughts, ideas and emotions through creative and tangible ways that are easier to grasp and understand, perhaps when actions and feelings do not do the part of my mind justice.
It’s easy to say that writing stems from a place of insecurity–that those who write can’t say what they feel in person. But, I’d like to argue otherwise as writing holds far more stronger abilities than that. At a young age, writing, for me, was a special place to find myself. There’s a remarkable little ability writing can do for you when you are able to put all your crazy little thoughts and feelings from your head and your heart onto something you visibly see right in front of you, trying to make sense of it all. And, the more and more you do it, the more you feel like someone is listening to you.
Writing, as in all art forms, is up for consumption. All art would not be made if it weren’t to be a vehicle of expression up to the disposal of an audience.
So, people often ask if I write for myself or for someone else. And, although a lot of the more journalistic “newsy” writing is ultimately up for businesses to like, pick up, and hopefully pay someone for publishing, I find that nothing is worth writing unless you are doing it for yourself. (A strong thing to say, I know.) I have always felt that if you are willing to totally own up and stand by your writing, you are coming from a more genuine and stronger viewpoint–because people can feel your passion when you care for something or not.
As I have personally found myself to be a very emotional writer, conveying emotion and feeling through my writing that not a lot of writers can do themselves, I find that that ability should not be wasted. There is a reason we are given the gifts and talents we have to use to find our purpose. I make meaning of things, only because that is who I am and that is my voice. I write to make and find meaning of things.
Of course, personalities play a part into the art of blogging (as do my musical musings and inclination towards the zodiac). I find that I personally have taken up an interest into many things only to hopefully piece them together to find a part of myself.
As a young adult always trying to better and advance herself, it is easy to doubt myself. So, I look to people who inspire me; who have succeeded before me; who live the life I so envision for myself; or evoke the feelings and attitudes I wish to imbue onto myself as well.
“Every kid has those rock-star dreams, but I was a speed skater,” Celski says. “I made sure I stayed in my lane, so to speak.” – Guitar Aficionado (March 2014)
I spent some time doing some light reading Saturday night, and it’s not often I find myself having some time for myself. (Losing your mind through any reading material at a bookstore can be very therapeutic.)
For years, I had so often wished to be remembered for something. I wanted to be known for something. I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted to feel like I was worth something more than I felt myself to be.
And so I wanted to be a rock star. I wanted to be in a band. And I loved writing and playing music and interacting with people who appreciate all your matter-of-factly selfish work. I was also told from a young age that I was on the “prettier” side, so I felt that could give me leverage to grab the attention of people, and surprise them with how “good I could get.” (Nothing feels better than surprising people with how nice of a person or talented you actually are.)
But, writing was never something I really thought about. Again, it was just something I did that was second-nature.
As I’ve gotten a little older, having battled with some naive dreaming and grappling of reality (for I was always a head-in-the-clouds, dreaming kind’a gal), I felt within the earth that I was always a writer. It was something that felt natural, right, and easy for me.
Of course my ventures into music will never stop, as I find that I am always so inspired and attracted and naturally attentive to it; it is also something that creates a beautiful feeling within my hands and my heart from my mind, where I feel a connection and comfort through it that I cannot find anywhere else. The ability to play and hear something audibly respond back to you is beautiful.
But, beside all of my hermit-like hobbies and obsessions into finding and understanding yourself through studies of the zodiac and personalities, my blog is a safe haven for everything that speaks to me, from me.
Wherever I do find myself going with this, I hope that it creates a truly enriching life for me. There is nothing more special than receiving messages from friends who tell me that one of my posts had inspired them to write more, to play more, to mend an old relationship, to pursue a new relationship, or even find a new piece of themselves through this.
There is something I read today that told me my birthday indicates I am the “Ace of Spades.” It tells me that I live in a constant struggle of extremes between highly materialistic, driven by my work and career, and highly spiritual, finding happiness only through an awareness of a wealth of spirit. I will constantly be challenged in relationships, as emotional attachment will continually bring pain unless I treat and find the spirituality I so passionately seek within all that I do, putting my big dreams aside–so to speak.
The truth in that haunts me. Because I know that as much as I may live a simple and positive life, my craving for “more”–the spiritual, otherworldly meaning in all that I do–can overpower the reality of things.
Finding your passion to do what it is you most want for yourself, while also creating meaning within it, can be difficult. But, that path, I am sure, can create something truly and painfully beautiful at the same time. And that’s all that matters.