Where is my blog?
I’m so angry. But at myself. There is something wrong with me and I know it. I don’t know exactly what it is but I know that whatever it is it’s affecting my… everything. I can’t remember how many projects I’ve been excited to start and haven’t. I’m writing this on a “word processor” (it does make me sentimental for my Amiga 1000 and the time when “word processors” were really important but not connected to the Internet) but I really should be writing it in an application that will easily upload the text to my blog.
But my blog doesn’t yet exist. I had intended to install wordpress and create my blog that way but got distracted by other things after wordpress didn’t easily install in Ubuntu. I also started using Evernote to keep track of all my great ideas and goals. I think I must have been manic and after that initial burst of enthusiasm I settled back into my non-routine routine of working and dealing with family issues and bouncing around between interesting subjects and short-lived projects.
So, what is wrong with me? I know I like to write. But I can’t count how many times in my life that my personal writing has devolved into “nothing I write matters! It’s all bullshit! Why do I even bother? I write my feelings to understand myself better but it’s all a lie!”. I’m angy at myself because I think if I could figure out why I can’t stick to one project long enough to really go deep into it, rather than just skimming the surface of everything, I could actually create something that would be satisfying and fulfilling.
But I’m 42 years old now and I’ve been repeating the same pattern since I was 12. And that makes it really difficult to believe that I should even bother trying. And I usually don’t bother trying. And when I get in a manic mood and feel like doing something, the part of me that remembers my previous experiences wants to tamp down the enthusiasm and lower my expectations so I won’t have to suffer unnecessary disappointment. And I don’t know what to do about it even though I understand the process.
Would it help if I knew I was exposing my words to others? Maybe. I’d like to try. Maybe just getting some feedback from other human beings would keep me going and foster self-understanding. The social aspects of the Internet these days is really amazing and intimate in a way that has never existed before on such a large scale in human history. I think I just managed to articulate for the first time why I find personal written blogs so appealing to read and to write.
The other helpful thing about personal blogs posted on the Internet is that they are permanent in a way my horrible computer-file organization skills can never hope to challenge. Once my thoughts are stored on a public server somewhere, I don’t have to worry about the fact the floppy disk I saved my Word Perfect files on is no longer readable by any current technology, or that the hard drive crashed and I didn’t have a backup.
So, that’s it. The difference between me writing in this wordprocessor and writing on a blog that others are going to be able to read is like me writing to myself (like I feel I’m doing here) and me writing to the world, no matter how few people actually read it. Right now, I feel like I’m talking to myself and I hate that. I want others to hear me and it’s so possible now I’m angry at myself for not having figured it out before.