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So, here’s the thing about my blog. Or blogging in general, for me.
I don’t really know how to do it.
I don’t know how to run a blog, a successful one, at least – a professional, quality blog. I tried and failed. The pressure of making a successful blog left me not writing on it at all – which is a failure no matter how you spin it.
I’m always torn between writing my inner most feelings – raw, unedited, first draft stream of conscience – and writing well thought out, progressive pieces with a punch. Since I never fully decided on either, its left me in a writing drought that ironically enough left me writing neither – or let me more honestly say, left me writing nothing. At all.
Because here’s my issue: if I write news-like opinion pieces (which for the most part has been what this blog is), I get bored fairly easily. I feel like I’m writing for an audience, not to an audience. Which leads to me feeling like I’m people pleasing via text. I’m writing what people want to hear, what they expect. Polished fragments of my very filtered mind on one specific topic at a time. And even though all of my words are true and genuine, something about them has started to feel inauthentic. It’s too planned out, too practiced and versed, too watered down. Though, if I write a blog that functions more as an internet diary, I face just as many trials. Namely fear. Can a blog be that personal? A blog that past professors and advisors see, a blog who is viewed by not only friends but friends’ parents, aunts and cousins. This blog that my 28 year old brother reads – how raw can it actually be? I don’t want to have a web page full of wining, either. So there has to be a moral, intelligence, affect and effect. Substance. I have to have a blog of substance. Do my daily activities and thoughts have THAT much substance to them that anyone in their right minds would care to read them? I’m assuming no.
This all has left me trying to do the seemingly impossible task of filtering what in my brain is significant and useful, and what is not. What of my art is of substance, and what of my art is just the first draft that no one should waste their time on. And truth be told, not being able to find or even understand that balance has left me in agony. It has also left me not writing at all because honestly…I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what belongs in a book, what belongs on the internet, what belongs in a magazine, a newspaper, and what belongs in a private journal that no one gets to read. I do not know where to put all of my words. So I haven’t put them anywhere, at all. The issue with that, I have found, is that they don’t go away. They store up and stack up, and build walls and valleys and dungeons in my head. And lately, they are getting too heavy to bare.

I have always hated journaling. Absolutely hated it. It feels like Im pouring my soul out to a brick wall, leaving me feeling more encaged than when I started. Something about putting my words in some secret little book that I tuck away and no one will ever see feels like absolute suffocation. It has confused me my entire life because all writers are supposed to be glued to their pocket journals, right? But then it dawned on me that me favorite way to pray has always been out loud while alone – speaking to an empty room. Letting my words physically exit my body, bringing them to life. I have the privacy of not face-to-face seeing anyone directly hear me, yet the comfort of knowing someone is listening. And since writing should be my religion, I’m going to take a stab at writing the same way I talk to God – after all, all art is is a form of praise. I will write to a present yet faceless void, because it gives me my ultimate comfort – being heard, without feeling watched.

So this is a letter to you, whomever it concerns.
I know this blog has been functioning as one thing for a few years now. But I ask for your patience, your understanding, and your open mindedness as I embark on a new type of blog. One that acts as more of a journal than a publication. A blog that may only contain one line of literary art within pages of an entry. A blog that allows me to be who I am, whoever that may be, in any specific moment of time.
Whether that be a poet, a journalist, an activist, a scholar, an author, or a broken heart.

This is my resolution:
To recreate this blog – flip it upside down completely.
I gave you a series of final drafts. Now I ask you to stick by me, while I give you a trashcan full of firsts.

I don’t know how to run a blog.
But for now, I just need a place to put my words.

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