It’s been so long since I’ve written anything.
With very few readers, it’s hard to muster the energy to write about something I’m sure no one really cares about. The fact I deleted all social media hasn’t helped either, as I have no real way to expand my readership. It’s also infuriating that the few people who do read this read it from their email, so there are no website hits that alert me it’s worth writing anything new. Yet I received a few personal messages asking when the next post was coming (I think they were worried I’d died).
So, here it is.
The initial plan was for me to rant about everything that frustrates me in the world, but I began dwelling on that anger so often it became a personality. I was the guy that hated everything. I excel at the game “Don’t get me started” because I can pick everything apart and find things annoying and wrong with everything. No one likes that guy. That guy is a bummer. I was the bummer. The blog was meant to give me an outlet, instead I changed how I was seeing things and only let the rage out when the hormone imbalance strikes me asunder one day every month. So the blog took a personal journal-esque approach, which wasn’t what I wanted either.
I wasn’t prepared to air my laundry, dirty or otherwise for all to read. Not because of my personal story, but because my personal life involves the lives of other people. Nearly every single story I have, nearly every experience I have experienced, emotion emoted, and thought thunk has involved another person or five. It is not my place to air their stories here in a public space. I deleted my social media because I was so goddamn tired of that happening to me. It’s one thing for me to tell everyone a story about what happened when I knocked myself unconscious while flirting, but it’s a vastly different thing for someone to post an entire conversation with me as statuses without my permission. It would be remiss of me to do that to the people in my life. Even using pseudonyms and neglecting names all together, should that person ever read this blog, they’d identify themselves from context and those in the story as well. They deserve to live their lives as privately as they wish without my opinions, perspective or thoughts interrupting their lives in such a public arena.
In an incredible act of Doublethink I also want to tell you all about my life and the people that reside within it. I want these people to read my perspective on the story so they know the impact they have on my life – the good, the bad, the insane. I want to be able to write freely about the strange situations I end up in, the way I feel about how I’m impacting those around me. I want people to experience the sociopathic trail of thought that occurs when I’m tired and completely over caring what anyone thinks after a shitty month; the thought process when my nihilistic tendencies take over and consequences don’t matter. I want you to laugh at and with me when I injure myself trying to flirt with a cute person. I want people to walk with me, hand in mine as I experience incredible hurt when I lose someone, and to give them the stories I have as I remember those people. I want people to know the impact they have on my life when I am suspicious of them, when I love them, when I lust after them. I want them to have anonymity yet make public their significance in my life.
I think both opinions are right. Simultaneously, without exclusivity, they are both right. I have the right to tell my story with all the detail I want and they have the right to privacy. So what do I do? The truth is, I have no idea. I don’t think I ever have any idea what to do when it comes to other people.
A lot has been going on in the last few months and I’ve often thought about writing my day to day life as events unfold, but I’m always concerned with hurting someones feelings should they ever stumble upon the blog and happen to read a paragraph or two. I over think a lot of things. Most things, in fact. The impact my thoughts and actions have on others is the biggest thing I overthink. Which seems incredibly full of hubris and selfish to me. Yet I’m told it’s sweet by some. I’m aware of the school of thought that a writer should be wiling to sacrifice anything for their craft; but honestly, I find that train of thought to be a lot of wank.
Where is the middle ground? How do I tell a story, make the significance of these people known without giving anything away. Do I even possess that level of creativity or ability? I don’t think I do. Sure, I can weave a good tale in to a better one, but there in lies the details. I guess I’ll have to spin stories as the mood takes me. I’ll have to intermittently upload poetry, spoken word, an image, or a story. I’m hoping the journal-esque style disappears. I’m hoping for your sake (and mine) I can be more entertaining. I’m hoping I can give insight or spark conversation. I want to explain how I see the world on any given day and why I see it that way, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe you see it that way too, or can give me a different point of view. I just need you to bear with me as I get my bearings.