Today is the first day in a long time that I have some forced relax time. The school year ended yesterday and two hours of cleaning out my desk and two hours of facebooking and an hour of blog reading is about all I could stand. Now I am sitting like a zombie, drooling on my desk and praying for the second hand to tick just a teensy weensy bit faster. But when I stare at the clock and concentrate, time only seems to be moving slower.
I had a glimpse of genius today. I decided to read a blog recommended to me by a friend who was roomates with this person in college. It appears that my one time acquaintence has metamorphosed into a kind of writing goddess for a major TV network.
So today, as usually happens when I read the blog of someone I admire in some way, I’ve gone through a billion emotions: wonder, obsession, elation, agony, and despair.
…I try and try to grasp at what I want to say. I type and delete. I try rephrasing. I stop and I try again. Then I give up and continue with the less-than-perfect English I am capable of after living on this island for close to 6 years…
Even though I know blogs are just constructions…fake confessions or masks fabricated intentionally or unintentionally for other people to see…they still move me. They still affect me and can make me feel far closer to anyone that actually talking with them can. I am not sure why this is. I’m not sure why the act of blogging brings me closer to knowing myself as well. When I don’t blog, I feel I have no voice. When I don’t type anything to myself or write anything in a diary or a notebook, I feel like I die a little bit.
I forced myself into silence for a little over a year. I didn’t like what the voice inside me was saying, and I wanted to lock it up or kill it. In time the desire to write or think about anything subsided. I stopped journaling, I stopped creating, I stopped taking pictures or expressing. I just existed with myself on the surface, enjoying things simply, hating things simply, and my dreams were the only connection to anything deeper.
Today I felt inspired to write something. I felt the need to try to say something even if I couldn’t fully express it or understand it or even come to a point. I feel motivated, and I feel like a real person instead of a shell moving myself from place to place and doing things because this is the established routine. Today I feel I have a choice. Today I think I feel alive. I think maybe it’s time to reconnect and understand myself. I think I’m ready to take the best colors from my life and paint pretty pictures for other people to read. I don’t think the images will all be black and grey and red anymore. I don’t think they will be melodramatic or heavy anymore. I’m glad.
And for reference, I will link to the blog I was reading, but I don’t think that the topic of any particular entry is directly related to how I feel. Maybe just the act of reading thoughts about a life different than mine is all it takes to open up my reality just a little bit.