I know she meant well. She recognized that I’ve been progressing. Over a year ago, she had me start a journal. She didn’t care what I wrote in it, she just wanted me to get in the habit of writing my thoughts down. And I took to it, in my normal fashion… which is to say that I went ALL IN. I got a fancy graph paper journal, some fancy Japanese fine-tipped markers of varying colors, and searched for days for the perfect Bullet Journal templates.
Mind you, she didn’t tell me to do all this. She didn’t mention anything about bullet journaling, fancy markers, or tracking EVERY SINGLE GLASS OF WATER that I drank for the day. I chose to do those things myself, because I felt that if I was going to do something, I better go all out because I’m a data whore. (That’s probably another blog entry) I can honestly say I journaled for about 3 months. I spoke to others about the benefits of it, like I was selling this snake-oil remedy for everyone’s depression problems. Then I stopped. I’m ok that I stopped, I’m journaling in my head (RE: Letters to Nobody). My hand hurt, and it was depressing seeing my empty calendar.
So now she says to start a blog. I have diverse interests, I write stuff, I art stuff, she thinks that I can teach people some cool stuff. Now here’s the problem with starting a blog if you have a personality like mine. I grew up with the internet. First with Prodigy, then AOL, on past dial-up, forums, MUDs, MMOs, chatrooms, FB, Instagram, Tumblr before it sucked, etc., etc. Just like 99% of society, I thrive off the feeling of internet recognition. I’ve been saying for years, “I’m famous on the internet!, ” when I’m really not. I just have people I talk to on the regular. Internet recognition like Thumbs Up emojis, reshares, engaged conversations, roleplays. It’s the musical sound you get from a trophy or achievement on Playstation or Xbox. That small blip of satisfaction. No one else gives a shit, it’s just a small bit of endorphins letting you know you accomplished something. You were seen for JUST A SECOND, even if it wasn’t by human eyes.
And a blog. A blog is where you throw down whatever content you want. In my case, a bunch of ragtag off-beat stuff. And I want people to read it. I want someone to connect with it. EVEN THOUGH I SAID IT WAS FOR ME. I’m not supposed to care if anyone reads it because I told myself this blog was for me. But that endorphin pool sitting below the surface rumbles… it says… LET ME OUT BECAUSE I KNOW THIS FEELING! So I start joining these stupid FB groups to promote my site. I made a logo! I started a Twitter account (OMG WHY!??!?!!) in hopes that I use the right hashtags to entice someone to this free blog. I’ve read articles on how to promote my blog, how to pin it to pinterest, how to stylize and SIGN UP HERE FOR 10 LOW PAYMENTS. Oh gawd, it’s so dumb what our brains and chemicals make us do. This is a rabbit hole I don’t wish upon anyone.
She meant well. I’m going to do my best and write about subjects I care about, even if I don’t have a gimmick or solid theme. I think my little dead-eyed poop emoji logo is appropriate.
The End. -A