So, it's been a while yet again. For a person who was initially driven to post regularly, my plan didn't work out very well. It's not a big deal though, I doubt the lack of ripples was even noticed. There is a truly satisfactory explanation for why I have had a rather low on-line presence.
To begin, I will recount some of the highlights of the past year or so. Firstly, my husband and I are finally on the same continent! This has changed my writing schedule since I no longer have as many hours to mope around since I now get to spend time with him. Secondly, for the past half a year or so, I had been working on my Honors Thesis which, of course, messed with my sanity, my free time, my ego, and my overall confidence in my ability to articulate anything clearly. Finishing that thesis was a grueling process; and I chose, perhaps naively, to write this thesis on no other than DFW's Infinite Jest--which, if you don't know, has about 1,000 pages. But anyway, as of the end of March - I finished. The week after I turned it in, I had spring break and I spent it recovering - I honestly did nothing but sit around mesmerized by the fact that a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.
So those two things were definitely factors…but there is one more rather pressing factor that still finds its way into my stream of consciousness. I've recently come to understand how big the world is. No seriously. You see, it was in middle school that I discovered my passion for writing. I started taking it more seriously in high school. It was toward the end of high school that writing started becoming a part of my identity, people were starting to perceive me as "a writer" and it felt empowering to know that I had a sense of direction in life. When I got into college, I felt wonderful knowing that I would be one of the few who never changed their major since I knew from the beginning what I wanted to do. I couldn't wait to jump past the required general education courses so that I could finally slip into English courses that would feature: professors that were nothing short of Renaissance men embodying every aspect of artistic genius, classmates who would get me and my work, and a general intellectually and artistically driven atmosphere that would cultivate and nurse my passions. Unfortunately, that isn't exactly what I got. To avoid going off on a tangent and ranting off about this, I'll just leave it at: I was surprised to find that college had far fewer people that could get me in store. This would have been alright, I suppose it might have even fed my ego with the notion of being the misunderstood artist. However, I never reached such self-absorption because, during most of my four years in college, my ego has been severely battered and stepped upon.
Again, to keep it short, I learned that I'm not all that special at all. I went from believing I could be Shakespeare in high school, from wondering if I could even manage to write a basic essay during my senior year. There is something about college that is humbling--which in many ways, I must admit, has helped me to be a better thinker and writer…but in other ways, it has stifled my creativity and ambition.
Lately, I've been learning (seemingly on a recursive loop) that in an ocean full of fish, I'm not all that big of a fish or all that colorful of a fish. College has taught me that every single idea that I've ever come up with (and foolishly thought I was a genius for), has already been thought by somebody else - sometimes way before I was even born. And, even worse, I'm not some sort of sage with some divine gift to see things clearly or differently. Nope. Many people see the world exactly as I do. Heck, this blog? If you thought anything I've written here is worthwhile, I assure you that there are at least hundreds more detailing the exact same thoughts as mine does. Articulate twenty-something-year-olds with a little imagination and a desire to write are a dime a dozen. I actually don't stand out as much as I thought/hoped I did. If I were gone, the world would not experience as much of a loss as I romantically dreamed it would - I'm rather inconsequential to the earth's spinning.
Perhaps I sound like a middle-to-upper-class snob bantering about banal matters since most people never even get to imagine themselves as big fish. True. But for me, my let down was rather intense, probably more so because I was so sheltered. In a sense though I have come to appreciate what humility can do for a person. And perhaps there is much more value than I currently see in realizing that one is not (pardon this) the shit. I may be led to valuable new insights if I pursue old passions with my newer and more humble perspective. Sure, blogs like mine are very common and, sure, many people my age may have similar thoughts to share - but…so what? I cannot let that petrify my imagination any longer. I wish to write because I am passionate about writing and it nourishes me as a person. Whereas before I used to think much about writing for an audience (whether it be blog or novel), I now look at the situation as though I will never be published and never be known. Instead, I'm writing just for myself so that I can get my thoughts out and so that I can better understand myself and my world. And actually, not having to carry the weight of an imagined audience on my shoulders is actually quite liberating. So, let's see where this will take me.
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