So I sat and I thought, why don’t I write more? I’ve been meaning to start a blog for months, but I think the reason I hadn’t yet was both the fear of others reading my writing and thinking ‘is that it?’ as well as not really having a bloody clue what to write about. Nowadays everyone and their uncle Pete has a blog and don’t get me wrong, that’s great, but I felt like a lost goat in the mountains when trying to identify my place in the blogging world. It was something I would put off and shy away from, simply because I hadn’t yet been brave enough to grab hold of the reins and ask myself what I could write about and how much time and effort I was willing to put in, regardless of what others might think of it. But here I am. I finally made the decision to give it a go because hey, even though I am now yet another lone blogger in the vast, overwhelming ocean that is the internet, I’m using my voice. Figuratively speaking. Right? Right. As for not knowing what to write about – seeing as I don’t have any distinct hobbies such as cooking or photography – I think that leaving my options open gives me more scope to write freely and perhaps stumble across interesting topics that a specific niche blog subject would prevent me from discovering. Without one particular thing in life that I want to write about, I have decided to simply write about life itself. My life. All the little random happenings and ups and downs that I experience. So there we go, I’m going to write about me and my life. I now have a platform to channel my thoughts, ideas and perceptions and even if they mean nothing to anyone else, I have found my outlet. Writing.
I think that’s really important – to find an outlet for yourself. Whether that be playing tennis with your mate Fred, creating music in your bedroom or meditating in the garden, I think being able to channel all that bubbling inner energy into something physical or creative is near enough a necessity in the whirlwind of today. I often find myself rushing around and losing sight of the moment, and I’ve never really found anything I enjoy enough to help me remain calm and get my thoughts together. Besides writing, that is. I have always loved words. I always used to want to ‘be a writer when I grow up’, writing little stories for my parents to read. At school my favourite subject was English, essays brought me joy and any creative writing task gave me an excitable flutter in my stomach. But I reached teenage years and the uncontrollable anxiety of self-awareness kicked in, which is when my dreams and confidence both took a back seat. Don’t get me wrong, I know what I want and I have goals and ambitions, but I am a very self-conscious person and I often find it easier to linger at the back whilst others project themselves to the world. I’m pretty sociable, but my nerves definitely get the better of me in terms of getting stuck in and doing stuff. This frustrates me, obviously, because I am someone with an exhaustive internal dialogue and I’m dying to get out there and ‘be myself’ as they say. What is this fear of being seen and heard for who I am? I don’t know. Societal pressures? Probs. But this is why writing is a good bridge for me between expressing myself freely and not having to be the centre of attention in the spotlight. So there we have it, I have finally started a blog. Gosh, about time.