To Blog or Not to Blog

Preface: In efforts to avoid the time sink that is the dashboard of angsty tweens on Tumblr and an attempt to adapt to currents standards of an adult techie life, I have migrated to Medium for blogging. A proper ‘About Me’ coming soon.

I am very good at decidedly stating I am going to alter my path, give myself a new title, bestow my life with a new sense of purpose - a new aura. To really be a writer. A blogger. A collage artist. Call it what you will. But really the only title I can truly give myself is Lazy Shit. I seem to be satisfied with the mere the idea of altering my ways and never get around to the action required to actually do so. I know better than to say to “THIS TIME ITS FOR REAL, IM BACK TO BLOGGING”. Lets face it — I’m the millennial who cried “art”.

For the sake of optimism lets say some things have and will change. I am nearing my quarter century mark so perhaps my impending crisis will inspire me to drastically crank out material for my posthumous digital paper trail.

But the days pass in a whirlwind of lunch, tech crunch articles, fart jokes, and tears. Days seem to have less minutes than they used to. Minutes have less seconds. One day it might matter to future me what I pulled from it all. Or perhaps to someone else in this moment. Or it might not.

I am no longer in travel mode, living day to day and absorbing stories at light speed. Its easier to strike writers gold when you’re away from the banalities of your almost-every-day life. But every now and then truths reveal themselves in the minutia. And I need to train myself to spot them. To find the gibberish I keep in journals and polish it until it shines, the way my mother used to make me do with the candlesticks when guests were coming over.

I would groan: “Who the hell is going to take the time to notice this? And besides, the Weinberger’s have known us for years, do we really need to put on a show for them?”

And my mother would insist that we did. Porque Queda Bien. For respect, for both ourselves and the guests. And because one bathed even when they knew they would get dirty again so that the world wouldn’t have to suffer their stench. And that the American mothers had chore charts so I should cool it with the fresh attitude.

I go back and forth on whether taking my thoughts to the internet will serve as an exercise of creativity and introspection or will spiral into an addiction of validation and a filtering through of my personality towards a more blog worthy persona. But here I am. Because some things are done, fully conscious of their partially vain or unintuitive nature because they fall under the category of “things people do when they haven’t given up”.

I have so many earmarked ideas in my head that never find a home and I’d like to leave this earth with a decently long wikipedia page, therefore I think its that time again. The time to decide things will be different from now on.

To blog.

(Because even the fart jokes need a home in eternity.)

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.