here we go again

Okay. So I am trying to start writing again. I am trying to climb out of my deepest writing black hole yet. I could be more or less exaggerating, but nonetheless, that is a start.
Tonight is a good night to start. I guess. I am bound to always say that since I think that to build up the habit of getting back into this, I have to learn not to choose the right time to start or at least learn that I don’t really have to be in a certain mood to do so. I have always wanted to just spend a couple of hours everyday after work doing this, just clicking away on my laptop, trying to write about anything and everything for that day. And today will always be a good start. Like what they say, no day but today.
Okay. After a few tweaks on the font for my Evernote application, I have finally settled on one that I can use forever. I think. Lord knows I would actually end up trying to change this again for the next minute or so. Or maybe right about now. Okay. I am settled. Finally. I would have to stick with this one.
I should really go ahead and setup a good list of topics for me to write about every night. That will be a good start. I don’t really know how my blog is doing right now. All I know is that I still have more than a dozen unfinished posts hidden deep within there somewhere and more than double of that in posts that I actually thought of writing more about in the future, but just never had enough wisdom, time, or courage to do so. Yes, courage. I think I am allowed to say that. I read somewhere that blogging is actually the most accepted form of being naked online. Or was that a post about tweeting? I can’t really remember, but that would be something I can’t really forget.
I might have mentioned in the past that in one way or another, tweeting has destroyed or messed up my blogging groove. If there was any of it to actually begin with. I never really had some wort of writing groove to begin with. I think most of it was at it’s height when I was in high school, when all of these ideas just came to me ever so forced and ever so naturally. I think I was really more of a journalist back then than a writer. Say a journalist who never really had a knack for keeping a journal. Even my own life I couldn’t keep track of all the events, significant or insignificant, depending on who’s looking or reading.
So let’s start here. Last weekend was long weekend. While most people opted to stay with their families and gather together to commemorate the souls of those departed, I stayed home. Alone. Heartbroken and alone, to be exact. For reasons that you might have read already somewhere on my blog. And for the same reasons that I would not be discussing to much in detail in this one either.
I think that is a problem with me. That’s my problem: I fear too much of letting people in. I love too much to keep things to myself. Like this post, for example. I can never tell when this actually hit my blog, or if it would ever. I am my own strict editor and copywriter, and at the same time, I am my own slave for content control. I never felt that anything I do or write about would be good enough for anyone. Much less good enough for myself as an audience.
Some friend told me once that opening up to people, opening up to yourself, is actually a skill that can be learned. I personally never would think so. He said that he wasn’t that kind of a person before, but over time, he learned how to be like that. I don’t know exactly how he did it, that part he didn’t really get into much detail of. I just don’t see myself being that kind of a person I suppose. It’s something that I would always think that is so out of my character, out of my own personality. I think if I ever did try that, I would always end up thinking that I am trying to be someone who I am not and I would always hate myself for that. Not that I am being actually true to myself right now, but that is beside the point.
It just dawned on me: I think I am caught in some sort of chicken and egg dilemma when it comes to my own personality. Consider this: I have never revealed too much of myself to any single person at all. I mean, at one point or another, I have always kept a certain part of me hidden, either deliberately or subconsciously. I have always known to keep a part of myself to myself. I think I am way to guarded that way, too afraid to show any fear or vulnerability or any form of weakness. That’s one point. Second, I have always believed that saying something out loud or putting out there in the universe makes something real. Makes something true. I remember one friend that sort of confirmed this. She had her own epiphany when I told her that, and one part of her would always actually hate me for telling her that or ever actually putting that out there, which in turn actually made the whole theory true.
Wait, i think I lost my train of thought there for a moment. Ah, okay. Here we go: could it be, that since I have been keeping my guard up for the longest time, not revealing my so-called true self to anyone, I mean fully revealing my true self to anyone at all, and by revealing these things or putting these things out to the universe is the only way that these can ever really be “true”, that I am not really guarding my true self at all? Because if concealing this personality form the universe is what hinders it from being real, then it is possible that that personality that I am hiding from everyone else is not actually my true personality? If that’s the case, then who am I, really? On one point, I think I just invalidated all the emotions and feelings that I have felt and kept to myself. I think I just made enough reason for myself to not let go of a lot of things and people that had happened in my life for the past 27, 28 years.
But the question still begs some answers, who really am I? have I been hiding myself for too long, guarding myself too long that that part of me that I am protecting from spilling out into my reality has become too much a blur that even I cannot recognize it anymore? I am thinking of the similar symbolic representation in the Game of Thrones. Up north, they have built up The Wall so high and for so long that those that are guarding it right now, don’t even have any idea what they are guarding the wall up against. It’s kinda sad. Yes. I am kinda sad.
This was a good exercise. I think. Although I just crushed my whole reason for building my own wall in one fell swoop, I am thankful for small miracles such as this one, when I realize one more facet of my so-called personality, just by dissecting things, mincing words, and pounding myself to write them all down. I fail my mind, but only, I could only type so fast for my fingers to catch up with the ideas that swirl in my messed up head.
I better get some sleep now. If I stay awake a few more minutes after this, there would be no more sleep for me later for the next hour or so. and it’s 5:00 am already. My eyes are not yet really tired, but I have to make this coming day a more productive one than the last. Still, this is not half bad.


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