Quite right, a decade of blogging comes off as something major. So why the postponement of talking about it? I could easily come up with the excuse that around the 2nd of February (the anniversary date), I was still amid exams at university. However, I am aware there has been an additional element bugging me at the back of my mind: a certain fear of writing. More precisely, a fear of writing something incoherent and useless which won’t be given enough attention anyway. This seems to hugely set me apart from my 10-year-old self. And yet…
As a recap, the 10-year-old me – up until 12-13 – would focus on any little event and openly share it, perhaps with certitude that she had grand adventures. And they were grand, after all, due to heartfelt friendships, lively holidays and exciting challenges which I was more bold to take on, for sure. Plus, the 10-year-old me thought it was an ingenious idea to borrow favorite characters from books or even websites and use them in her own stories, with more or less unexpected settings and paths to follow. At 12 years old I found out that, apparently, you could talk about other people’s stories as well. Not just pinpoint the main ideas of the plot, but also express a valid opinion. And give ratings, if you were one heck of a judge. These book reviews were shortly followed by movie reviews, as well. Books predominated for quite a while. In much more recent years, roles have been reversed, movies clearly being more under the spotlight in a flash.
In the end, what does all of this mean? Do the different styles of posts reveal anything about my changing personality? I suppose I really started off as a kid unaware of what they were embarking on, but still confident that they were signing up for something worthwhile. It was a matter of practicing my writing in any possible way – that unashamedly included claiming random characters as my creation. Nevertheless, the lack of heroes and heroines born straight out of my head sent out a clear message which, ironically, I only became conscious of much later: pass on a topic, a group of characters already finely drawn, some keywords and I’ll conjure up something, maybe with an involuntary twist. But don’t force me to produce something completely authentic, revolutionary even. Not now, not in the near future. Not yet. Naturally, this unspoken message was subtly brought forward through the surge of writing reviews. “Now pass on the works of others and I’ll let you know my thoughts about them.” The road seemed to be paved, alright. Would it last? That is what has been worrying me. It goes without saying that I have developed an observant eye in time. I do get inexplicably thrilled whenever I begin to form connections among literary works and films, and detect their common ground. The mind is bubbling, but the buzz is likely to drift off when I’m supposed to write the ideas down and make them accessible to others. That proves to be difficult sometimes. The struggle grows when the mind does function way quicker than expected. Problems occur when you do realize that few people listen in general, let alone read what you want to say. These factors also reflect my own occasional impatience (to sit down, put aside the overwhelming excitement and find the logical manner of expression) and my tendency to overthink (whether I have made my points clear enough or not). The same situation applies in this very moment, undoubtedly. “Create a structure, be more organized. And please do not neglect your blog anymore.” For, indeed, the decreased number of posts (compared to the rather insane boom from 2010-2013) may reflect a sort of self-neglect. One cannot help but wonder how much time has actually been wasted within these 10 years. And yet…
I cannot claim I am not proud of my evolution. It is not as if I have long forgotten my blog and I am swiftly (and blatantly) “celebrating” a “false” decade. Time could have been used more wisely, but the progress remains there. And as I am sitting here, I keep telling myself I have the possibility to be in charge once again. Sometime in the past months I did dread to return to my blog, both feeling and thinking it would be a lost cause. I do not wish to live by that. I do wish to actively take part in what is offered along the way. The struggle does grow when you live with the sensation nobody has the patience to keep up with your ideas. Should that be the case, then I do want to be patient with myself in the first place. I do want to allocate time to what I consider to be meaningful. I do want to find out, through my blog, the content that truly makes me beyond content. My personality cannot be ruled by agitation and continuous worrying that I am never doing what’s right for me. This may be a call for help addressed to my 10-year-old self. And yet…
I may have preserved a powerful connection with my younger version, come to think of it. If it hadn’t been so, I would have never reached this entire decade of blogging – with its intermittent breaks and all – in an overpowering era of vlogging, after all, or more commonly at the time being, an era filled with videos of mere seconds. The 10-year-old me must have known firmly back then that she must write, no matter what, and stick to conveying a sincere outlook. Could there be any better advice, sufficient to give me a jolt? I doubt so.
A decade is major. 10 years have shown me that it is vital to have temporary tunnel vision on your potential, then expand it and hold onto a carefully established purpose, for the sake of not disheartening yourself. Who is to notice your work will notice and will also know to stick around and root for you candidly. For that reason, I must warmly thank anyone who has had plenty of patience to keep up with my blog from its very beginning, has encouraged me not to lose sight of it, has been kind enough to leave behind appreciative comments and, implicitly, has reached the end of this post. And yet…
Kidding.
Thank you.
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