Where Livejournal and “blogs” collide
So it appears I haven’t written in here since 2015. I wonder, how structured am I supposed to be with an entry here? How much has my writing changed since I used to post TMI on my Livejournal? It’s so embarrassing, yet somehow endearing, when I look back on my posts from 2005.
There was a particular turning point that made me stop sharing my thoughts online. Firstly, maybe I never should’ve in the first place. But back in the 2000s, before terms like social media and “influencers” came into play, I don’t think I could recognize how many people were actually watching and what I wanted people to know. Perhaps, also, I was more open to others in that youthful way that I sometimes wish I could get back with a little dose of the knowledge and boundaries I’ve created for myself as an adult. But would that even be youthful if there were boundaries in place?
Anyway, getting back to that turning point from 2007, I’m embarrassed to admit that it was a boy I liked (it always comes back to boys!) who made me self-conscious about sharing my writing in public. Don’t get me wrong, I have had no problems since publishing news reports, copywriting and content, which I did in droves (shudder) for more than a decade after. No, it was the personal, the private and intimate, the stuff that was made of “me” that I struggled to share after this conversation.
I had been pulling into my friend’s parking lot in a taxi with plans to meet up with him later that night. We were at that in between “liking” phase where we would talk all the time but didn’t know where things were going. It was evening and I was headed to a club with my girlfriends that night. As we continued talking about daily minutiae, he asked me, “So why do you put so much of your personal life online?” I paused. He was talking about the Myspace journals and Facebook and Hi5 notes. He was talking about my daily, sometimes 3x daily posts on Livejournal. Some days I would write on 4 platforms over the span of 24hrs. About nothing. About everything. Literally, anything. If Instagram existed back then, I would be that girl posting screenshots of my twitter posts — not that there’s anything wrong with that.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked him. “Nothing, it’s just weird, everyone knows everything about you,” he responded. It was not his intention to hurt me but I was crushed. He was right, in many ways. I look back at some of the things I used to tell the world and it makes me laugh. I am shocked at the things I used to tell people. I know I’ve changed as I’ve started “adulting” more, but I also think there’s a certain brand of writers who open themselves up to vulnerability and whom I myself appreciate. I don’t think 2007 guy really even read those writers and that was really what I think I was aspiring to at that time. I will never be that person again and I’ve learned a lot since, but I also miss that openness and fearlessness with which I used to venture into every journal entry.
My writing has changed so much since- the way I tap into my thoughts, the way I structure messages — even the words I choose are funny now, look at how I “structure” “messages,” maybe we should talk about my “content” “strategy” while we’re at it. Just kidding. I will remain casual in this space to avoid all potential lapses into media and content writing. Now, I create a lot of “filters” of sorts around my writing — I am still sensitive, still hyper aware of everything that’s said to me and towards every person I encounter, but I don’t talk about it in public. I find ways to write it down through my poetry, which can be such a veil to hide behind sometimes. I also used to put it into my songs.
I think I will use this space to share more of it going forward. So this is my “hello, just here for some kicks” post. I will share some of my poetry, essays and songs here when I feel like it. Mostly, I will share my thoughts. To start — here is an article I’m reading about creativity, The Artist’s Way and Julia Cameron. I have been putting some of this back in practice lately. I truly think my morning pages are doing some sort of reprogramming in my head/soul. Sometimes I wake up angry and uptight — like today — and the morning pages are like a dredger excavating all the things I’ve been burying inside of me. There’s so much that gets built up over the course of a day.
I should probably end this soon but I wanted to share a poem of mine so I can really feel like I own this page again. Here’s something I wrote recently which I haven’t submitted anywhere yet. But it still needs a foster home, and until that time, this will be its place:
While falling
While falling, make sure to wear knee pads
While falling, inspect your surroundings
While falling, there will be dirt, and blood and no hospitals to absorb the impact
While falling, keep your hands in front of you, prepped
While falling, there are no gears to slow the force, there is no handbrake to prevent
The inevitable
While falling, the ground below you appears friendly
While falling, the ground slowly morphs into a vacuum
While falling, the darkness is inviting, like a dim lagoon lit only by the moon
While falling, the darkness of the quarry waits
