A New "Blog"inning
It's odd how things lead into other things which lead into many things.
I was Skyping with Chelsea tonight, and we got on the topic of MySpace, which encouraged me to check out my own MySpace account, which hasn't been touched in a few years. I began to trace back my MySpace blog, when I actually used it, and was sent into my one of the most confusing, exciting, and passionate times of my entire life, simply by reading.
And it got me thinking.
As a blogger for Accidentally Hilarious, I have been trying so hard, too hard, to keep up a blog that would entertain the masses. Striving to write something that will make people read, and laugh.
I have not been true to myself.
These MySpace blog entries were so real. They were all very raw, and I held nothing back. I did not mention names, similar to what I do now, to protect the innocent (or not-so-innocent), but I sat down at my computer, and I simply wrote about my day, about whatever popped into my head as my fingers hit the home row. As I read these old entries, my imagination conjured up nearly exact memories of the days I described. A trip to hot Chicago to visit Mickey Mouse, a bonfire, a fight, a relationship in tatters and a new one on the rise. It was all very bittersweet to read - I know that at the time I was tormented by my own emotions, but remembering them gave me comfort, somehow. Because these events happened, and shaped me into the woman that I am now.
When I look back at this blog, will I want to remember writing an entry entirely of gym etiquette? Wouldn't I much rather read about the time that one of my best friends and I wandered under the Mason Street bridge looking for graffiti for a school project? Or the time that I danced in the rain during a tornado warning, without a fear or care in the world?
And, as painful as some other experiences are, they are what they are, and I'm damn proud of my life and what I do. Who cares if I love someone I probably shouldn't? Or that I deleted someone from Facebook because I couldn't stand seeing them in my newsfeed anymore?
I am human. I have needs. I have feelings. If this is too much information for you, then stop reading. No one pushed this link in front of your face and forced you to click on it.
I have a heart. And it is full.
This is my life, and I love it. No matter how fucked up in can be.
Time to let it out.
Peace.
Molly
I was Skyping with Chelsea tonight, and we got on the topic of MySpace, which encouraged me to check out my own MySpace account, which hasn't been touched in a few years. I began to trace back my MySpace blog, when I actually used it, and was sent into my one of the most confusing, exciting, and passionate times of my entire life, simply by reading.
And it got me thinking.
As a blogger for Accidentally Hilarious, I have been trying so hard, too hard, to keep up a blog that would entertain the masses. Striving to write something that will make people read, and laugh.
I have not been true to myself.
These MySpace blog entries were so real. They were all very raw, and I held nothing back. I did not mention names, similar to what I do now, to protect the innocent (or not-so-innocent), but I sat down at my computer, and I simply wrote about my day, about whatever popped into my head as my fingers hit the home row. As I read these old entries, my imagination conjured up nearly exact memories of the days I described. A trip to hot Chicago to visit Mickey Mouse, a bonfire, a fight, a relationship in tatters and a new one on the rise. It was all very bittersweet to read - I know that at the time I was tormented by my own emotions, but remembering them gave me comfort, somehow. Because these events happened, and shaped me into the woman that I am now.
When I look back at this blog, will I want to remember writing an entry entirely of gym etiquette? Wouldn't I much rather read about the time that one of my best friends and I wandered under the Mason Street bridge looking for graffiti for a school project? Or the time that I danced in the rain during a tornado warning, without a fear or care in the world?
And, as painful as some other experiences are, they are what they are, and I'm damn proud of my life and what I do. Who cares if I love someone I probably shouldn't? Or that I deleted someone from Facebook because I couldn't stand seeing them in my newsfeed anymore?
I am human. I have needs. I have feelings. If this is too much information for you, then stop reading. No one pushed this link in front of your face and forced you to click on it.
I have a heart. And it is full.
This is my life, and I love it. No matter how fucked up in can be.
Time to let it out.
Peace.
Molly
Love you darling.
ReplyDeleteMySpace was totally the twilight of my blogging past. I think mostly because nobody really read it except our tiny group, we were all so candid about everything. Taking trips down blogging memory lane is so emotionally draining and time-consuming, but you always learn a lot about yourself and your emotional state. I like to be reminded of where I came from every now and again. It's painful to be reminded of the hardest things that you've tried not to remember, and it's hard to experience the ridiculous nostalgia brought about by happy memories that once were, but it's so good to realize how you got to being the person you are currently.
The only flaw with your current self is that you're not with me :)