So, I’ve had this blog for about four and a half years.
From 24 to 28 years old, I’ve been writing here.
My focus has shifted, and it’s definitely as varied as my own ADHD driven mind, but it’s become an important aspect of my life; beyond that, it’s become an important facet of my identity.
Tonight, I put in my headphones and I went back and read from my first post – all the way to yesterday’s post.
The beautiful thing about writing and keeping a blog, is that you get to experience an archive of your life. And while this may seem like a narcissistic endeavor, it’s hardly a fruitless one.
There are many reasons why I write. Mainly, I want my grandchildren to be able to visit this. I can’t imagine how wonderful it would be if I could peruse my grandfather’s writings throughout his life.
Sure, I have facebook, but let’s be real, social media is akin to a holistic selfie; we get to portray ourselves in a manner absolutely designed for the consumption of others.
But a blog is more personal. Sure, I might meet strangers and tell them to check my blog out, but that’s because I write to share my generosity of spirit – and to me, that’s what art is: using your own humanity to create change in other people.
And that’s been a wonderful benefit of writing this journey. I get to connect to people in a very personal manner. Sure, I read some things tonight that in hindsight I perceived as perhaps vain, or just arbitrary in nature – but I’m okay with that.
I am a paradox. A self-described ‘very private person’ but meet me and I’m likely to tell you the realest shit that’s on my mind. That’s just how I’m built. I don’t know how to keep my heart in my pocket.
But I’m okay with that too. And that’s why I like writing so much, it’s a very vulnerable and personal thing.
I’m not going to go back and just delete everything I ever wrote just because I thought it was stupid for a moment in time.
At one point, it was my everything at that present moment.
I’ve lived in a handful of cities in as many years, and I’ve gone through this thing called life in the process.
Life: full of evolution, maturity, repeating the same damn mistakes, making new ones, learning, and hopefully growing along the way.
That’s the paradox of life: you grow, yet you remain the same. But that balance can easily be disturbed. One day you wake up and you hate your feelings and for a minute you hardly know who the fuck you are anymore.
You have to stay grounded. You have to stay true to you. You have to remember who you really are. It’s a damn difficult thing to do sometimes.
Which is why tonight, I felt like going back in time and this blog allowed me to rediscover feelings, memories, places, and people that are all too easy for me to forget.
It’s easy to lose that continuity of self-identity, but I feel like it’s a vital component of the self that must be retained in order to posses both a healthy perspective and a true sense of one’s own identity.
And I feel extremely fortunate to have spent the time putting my thoughts and feelings into words through this blog, because as a result I am able to augment my memory in a manner that surpasses my cognitive ability to posses these intangible aspects of myself.
I get older, my love handles rebel, my attitude and values change, my perceptions shift – but I am still that boy who lived in those places and shared my life with those people from my past.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe in living in the past – I think it’s the most surefire way to depression, second only to self-pity – but the value of having a living reference outside of myself in this blog has allowed me to extend my identity beyond the present moment, and I think that’s a very healthy thing.
The neat thing about this blog, is that it’s hosted on wordpress.com, which means that it is FREE. And it will be forever.
So, long after I die – this blog will be here.
As Shakespeare so eloquently wrote in Sonnet 18: “So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
And in a world where so many of us pass without leaving something, my writing is my rebellion against that.
It’s for me, it’s for you, it’s for my grandchildren. It’s for the joy of my soul.
When I write, I get to enter this ethereal creative space, where my brain goes into a whirlpool of complete freedom. I get to be totally free. Totally original, completely in the flow of my words.
I listen to music, and I put whatever is in my heart into this blog: please do too.