So guys,
you literally have no idea for how long I have been trying to get my thoughts
down here. However for some reason the timing to do it seems never right:
laptop is broken, phone is broken, no broadband in the house, etc…
Don’t
worry, I hear it as you do, as the very strongly thought excuse it is. But bear
with me. this is only the tip of the
iceberg of the challenge of ever stop writing.
Writing is
a beautiful art. It is not for all, I never even thought it was for me. It is
just something that you need to grow into, a learned behaviour, that has to
progress into love for you to continue it.
Thus stop
writing which can be translated as the unlearning of all these skills that take
years to master can become a REAL struggle. The reason is simple… you no longer divide
your time counting on writing. Writing no longer is part of your routine and
thereafter it needs to be planned in advance for you to ever get back on it.
And when it comes to fulfilling long-term goals…folks, can we just be honest
and say that we are still trying to achieve our 2012’s goals? (can I get an
Amen?)
Psychologically
speaking, we are wired to divide our attentional resources based on our
immediate needs and planning goes way beyond all of that. It requires a type of
commitment that we are not all ready to make.
Yet, I am
massive planner. I have a diary who would surprise an OCD person. I am the
master of planning all things in this planet so this excuse does not stick with
me.
The
struggle of ever stopping also passes through the fact that you need to revisit
the reasons of you were writing in the first place. I have always seen writing
as an outlet for all these weird, bottled emotions that my teenage self couldn’t
quite name. Don’t get me wrong, I was a
great teenager. My biggest sin was telling a white lie every now and then
because I wanted my life to sound better than it was.
However, the
older I got, the more ridiculous it felt to write about the same emotions
because I learned how to introspect and deal with these feelings from the
within. The problem is that now writing has lost its purpose to me and I can no
longer find a reason to do it. I am no longer the same person nor is the object
of my writing. What to write about now?
I could try
poetry and I love reading poetry but I can’t write poetry. It requires this
simplicity in understand living things and the inherent beauty in the world
that I don’t possess. I am quite a complex person and can only translate what I
feel in complex thoughts.
I gave it a
try to writing short-stories in the past – I loved it too but I am no longer my
16 year self with a crush on a guy who won’t like her back and I don’t think I
have managed to read enough books to commit to doing such a type of challenge.
However
writing is essential to me, it became part of me over the years. It’s how I
managed to reason my own actions and to find my own needs as a human person. I
cannot abandon it.
So
pondering on all this, I have got to the conclusion that what I want this blog
to be about is myself. Sounds stupid to you, doesn’t it? But bear with me. Here’s
the logic: I have never been able to write anything that hasn’t in a way been
related to me. So, for a fact, all I have ever been doing is writing about me.
While this
life of mine is not so interesting that deserves a self-entitled book, certainly
has funny badass moments that will definitely make your days feel infinitely
better! Being able to laugh at own silliness has made so more resilient to life
and I am here willing to share my wisdom with you all.
Welcome to
the series of the life of a muggle by own your truly. You ready for the first
chapter?
With love,
Tommy
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