Maybe I should be apologizing for not posting daily or, at least, frequently when I should, but then again, should I still keep posting when no one’s even following me right now?
Well, for one, I did just made this blog because I felt pressured to put myself on a platform in the eyes of the world first before I proudly (and maybe a bit vainly) proclaim myself to be an official writer. I mean, I do understand the logic of it that if you do proclaim yourself a writer, you’ve got to show evidence. But as a very sporadic person, I feel as though that pressure is heavier than it should, and having a schedule to write something about myself everyday while dealing with college homework and research… Well, let’s just say I like to cram too much that I forget my priorities ’till the last minute. 😛
Anyways, the point is, I have writer’s block. There. You have me. And I’m really not the kind of person that keeps journals, that’s why I’ve warned you last time that I may write too randomly with a bit of an essay-ish tone because I tend (and like) to spiel about things I couldn’t talk about with others everyday in real life. Having said that, yes, this venture is a bit self-fulfilling, and maybe because of that my posts may not sound very orderly or ‘journal-ly’, but still, maybe this kind of unconventional blogging may actually be my ticket to success?
Hahahahahahahahaha! Who am I kidding? The reason why I only put this little personal yet not-so-personal space up in the internet is because a certain famous book guide to becoming a writer told me that nowadays, readers want a personal connection with their stars, and the more personal stuff I plot out in the open, the more people are gonna like and support me and my works (see The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published). But, just like any starting writer with a cocoon mentality, I am struggling with that.
Especially when I just started to know how to open up in a little less than 4 years ago thanks my very diligent and dedicated friends in college, I was never really a fan of this ‘opening up’. I don’t like to reveal myself so readily until I’ve thoroughly sorted out what and what not to reveal to the public. I’ve always read in various book guides that I should always keep a journal in handy because you never know when inspiration will strike you to write, and a diary might also help you from exploding due to bottled imaginativeness. Well yeah, I guess to an untamed and compulsive artist that might work, but I still beg to differ.
First of all, as an unnecessarily logical and irrelevantly practical person, my logic does not permit me to write very intimately, and every thought and word written and spoken into existence is calculated and evaluated with much pertinacity that less than half of them leave my lips and fingers. I find myself always thinking, my mind always whirring in full-throttle when I am faced with a situation involving interactions with human beings or even them as mere spectators to my actions (also why I tire myself out without doing anything in a crowded place). I’m always modifying myself to fit the frames of their conscious and unconscious expectations so that I may be generally accepted by the public.
Well, no, I’m not trying to be a hypocrite or a faker, but being a psychology major, you’ll get what I mean. There’s a reason why psych majors are regarded as the most flexible and adaptable beings in our college, and it’s mostly because we judge you (not really in a good or bad way though, but more of a neutral, unintentional, doctor-like kind of way) by your words and actions so that we may approximately guess what things may or may not tick you off. Thus, we can act accordingly to your convenience. And that’s what kind of made me like psychology, because I was already (you can even say ‘genetically’) wired to think that way, and I just wanted to know how (not ‘why’, because we all know that science can’t always answer that question) I’ve become this way.
So, journalling? My answer is ‘no’. I mean, what’s the point of writing things about myself that no one will ever read? And why would I create such a brimming weak point or treasure chest for certain malicious elements to target upon with such ease? And how can I write a biased entry about a certain topic when I’m not that biased in the first space?
Though nowadays, I’ve been entertaining the Westernized thinking of not giving a fuck, so I guess now you could say that that logic may have been diminished to a certain understandable level (thus, enabling me to overcome my anxieties about blogging). But I’m still afraid of ‘flaunting’ too much about myself. People might think I’m self-centred when in reality I’m just trying to put enough good content on my posts to be good enough to the readers. And yes, I am and will be as honest as shit about that.
Second is my schedule. Currently I have summer classes, and, despite my subjects being just minors, they are very demanding and always have some kind of work to take home almost every day. Living independently from my parents also takes a toll from my time since I need to do the necessary household chores myself or else I’ll run out of plates to eat on or clothes to wear the next day. It’s a good thing I live with my working cousins, so I can just pass the cooking to them since all I can ever cook are ready-to-fry foods (which are not quite healthy for a young and budding adult such as myself).
Also, I’m not good with schedules because I can never really follow them even if I tried. Sometimes it can be the reason why I procrastinated, because me and my passive-rebellious nature are looking for just about any restrictions I’ve applied on myself and shatter it to bits with guilty pleasure. Well, as a passive, self-inflicting person would say, it is easier to rebel against oneself than to rebel against others. The point is, I don’t like being caged or tied down. Maybe because I’ve been whipped to shape so much by my strict mum back then that the overwhelming curiosity of bending the rules has finally ended me in this disposition. Though I don’t know how I should feel about that.
And last but not the least, I am a perfectionist. And just like any other perfectionists, I like to torment myself for being not good enough when perfection, like beauty and art, is quite subjective. Yes, I am aware of human subjectivity, but I still struggle to tear myself off that insanely enslaving tick to check and clean and polish everything, and this is probably why my cousins constantly point out my ‘sluggishness’ in washing dishes and clothes and arranging stuff, because I like to be thorough and sure that I’ve soaped and utilized every nook and cranny before moving on to my next victim.
I don’t write a check list of things I need to do or buy or correct, but rather, they’re just neatly fastened in my brain. It’s not that I’m too lazy to list them into reality, but it’s just my way of keeping my memory sharp and ready all the time. Or maybe I’m just really really anxious that my obsession of keeping countless check lists relating to various matters in my life from the ingredients I need to buy for tonight’s dinner up to my plan when I grow old with or without children will scare the fuck out of everyone. I like to think of the many circumstances and possibilities about the future that I tend to unconsciously disconnect from reality while walking down the street or even while conversing with someone, yet still be able to maintain the same outward composure.
So to relate my perfectionism to my chagrin in keeping a blog, I revise too much. So much that I keep too many unfinished drafts and never be able to post them because I think they suck balls. WordPress keeps count of the number of revises in a post, and they always exceed that 25+ status even on my unposted drafts. I always recite my works in my head as if I’m reading them aloud, and if anything, and I mean anything, sounds a bit off, that’s a strike off the revision counter again.
But, because I like to procrastinate and laze around and anxietize on almost everything, I tend to just ditch the whole thing and let blogging sit for awhile until I feel like writing for it again because I keep coming up short on my stories/almost-novels. I revise and think too much on writing my posts that I exhaust myself enough to think about quitting it altogether.
I know this is a bad habit of mine, that’s why I have a lot of stories pending and unfinished artworks and half-read books on my lists, but I do want this to change. I do want this to work out, that’s why I still post shit even though I’m so inconsistent and unreliable and self-degrading about it. I want to finish something, even if it’s just a mere post like this, because I’ve been so deprived of that feeling of gratification that I don’t know how to make myself feel that way again.
That’s why I’ll try my best to make this work, so these small bites of satisfaction from posting here might build me enough courage to actually finish reading a whole book again, down to the copyright page, or complete an artwork with proper inking and colouring, or at most, turn a pending story of mine into a legit full-fledged novel, ready for publishing. And yeah, I get that a lot of writers fail because they focused more on journalling than actually writing stuff, but I have my own reasons too why I’ve tried this thing that’s my last resort in breaking my writer’s block.
I want to become what I dreamed to be, and I’ll do whatever it takes to achieve my dream, even if it means trying the conventional.