I haven’t been blogging a lot lately, and that’s not for a lack of anything to write.
When I was younger, back when the Internet was just something I watched about in Doogie Howser, writing was just a breeze. It was so easy to fill up pages and pages of my journal. I knew I can write my heart out and not worry about grammar and spelling. At the back of my head, there is the fear that someone might find my journals and read each of the entries, but even then I never had to censor what I wrote because I didn’t have to worry about who might see them and how my thoughts would be interpreted.
Those don’t apply now. I can’t write when somebody is with me in the room, even when I know that he or she isn’t really reading each letter that I type — he or she is more likely wondering when I’d be finished with the computer.
Even when I’m alone, I can’t not edit what I write. In the process, I tend to lose the flow of my thoughts and end up deleting everything entirely. That’s even after I had written and rewritten, several times, the sentences in my head and pondered long and hard on whether I should actually post an entry.
When I first started blogging, it was easy to be cryptic about my entries. Not so much now. It is just so easy to put two and two together that trying to say what you want without actually doing so has become such a tedious process, one that I don’t really want to invest my time and energy in. Or maybe because I’m a little older now and not as carefree as in the past, when I probably didn’t care as much.
Why should I care anyway?
Because I don’t like having to explain myself, that’s why. Because I don’t like to be probed and analyzed and face questions from people who feel they know exactly what I mean when they obviously don’t and receive advice when I don’t need or want it and not when I do.
My head is such a big mess. Probably a result of having to store all those deleted sentences into memory, shoving them way back into my head so I won’t remember and have the urge to write them down.
I guess what I’m saying is, I’ll try harder.
In other news, my youngest brother is now at the Maldives, working the front desk for this posh resort. He’s been trying to finagle a promise from me to come visit him there, but at 300 euros a night?!?
Maybe if we win the lottery, we will. 😀