I’m not sure how I feel about being a blogger.  I am a stream of consciousness writer, which to me means I write how I think.  A lot of people also write how they talk, which has been said of me.  Truth be told, I talk A LOT.  Everyone who knows me knows this, with certainty.  I like to think, though, that in some cases, when I come to the end of myself I can still write, and write how I think rather than how I talk.  I find an odd comfort in the idea that I am a better, more efficient thinker than I am a talker.  In actuality, that’s not the case at all.  Much of this blog will not make any sense to anyone but me.  I am totally okay with that.  I’m not sure what I will use this device to comment on, I’ll wait and find out. 

I feel like everybody is in a constant process of self-discovery, and so usually that’s what I write about.  In my current field of study, we care a lot about self-discovery, so it’s a huge part of my life.  It has been for a long time, I’m sure, but it continues.

Currently I feel like I am experiencing a whole lot of things that I can’t really express.  And I don’t mean that I don’t know how to express them, but I do mean that I can’t (though sometimes the latter is true as well).  I have really awesome close friends that I can trust.  I am so lucky.  But we don’t necessarily see eye to eye on every issue, and so a lot of things can be very tricky to try and talk about.

In person, when I talk, I try really hard to be eloquent.  I use tons of metaphors and all kinds of such stuff.  When I write I feel a little freer…probably because I can’t get an instant response like when I’m in person or on the phone with someone. 

I think that’s why I might like blogging.  It’s an opportunity to say whatever I want, and I’m partly anonymous.  I’m grateful for the opportunity.

Since I was a kid I always had a diary or journal or something like that.  When I was a little kid one of my parents often found my journal and read it.  I was really tempted, especially as a teenager, to write up a false journal to freak them out.  I am glad that I didn’t, it probably would have made them suffer, and now that I’m an adult I can have some perspective on that issue.  Now that I’m older and I have my own life, I can’t imagine how terrible it would be if your kids made you suffer on purpose…anymore than I can imagine why anyone would make their children suffer on purpose, for that matter. 

As an adult I have kept a journal almost always.  As a result of the above, I have always written it meanwhile imagining who would read it.  When I was a teenager, someone I knew lost their mother.  At her funeral, they passed out copies of her journal.  I wondered, what would the mother think?  Did she want her journal passed out?  In essence of this as well, I have sort of always written for an audience, and for this reason I tend to be elusive.  I intend to keep that going.  I’m not offended if a lot of people don’t check back to read my musings.  That’s okay with me, sincerely.  I just plan to continue in the way I always have, only now, I can wonder if someone has ever bothered to read, I guess.