The Hey Days of Blogging

When I read that post on Suanie’s, I too nodded vehemently feeling exactly the way she feels. Not so much the being 27 year old part, but I do feel burn out in someway. No.. this is not another blogging-theatric about how I’m gonna close my blog down boohoo so this is goodbye.

Just that I know what it feels like to miss the way the words used to spill out. We were new. We’ve never had such an outlet before. Back then, my blog was like a large white sheet of paper that stretches on into the distance. I could scribble here and I could scribble a little more there. Five years down the road, along the paths of reminiscing in various blog entries about childhood past and nagging questions in my head, I’m sure I’ve written about the same thing more than once. Sort of like an old grandmother who repeats her story forgetting that she has told them once upon a time.

I think I’m getting there.

Back then, words flowed and crashed down, unstoppable. Like a waterfall from a mountain top. The feeling was glorious!

I didn’t have to apologize for my horrible abuse of the English language, idioms at the wrong places or the creation of my own strange words that I thought existed. It is very embarrassing to be told off for a grammar mistake or a spelling error.

Blogging these days feel like a tap which is clogged. Water comes out in spurts and falls messily around.

I envy people who can talk about their day in the most descriptive and engaging words. No photos, just words. They can place people and conversations seamlessly in sentences after sentences and still make it a good read. Why can’t I do that too?

I think I lost my mojo.

I want to regain that interest I used to have in the simplest things that went on in my life and then churn it out into something interesting. It was like making magic out of nothing. Prior to having a blog, I never knew that mundaneness can make for such entertainment.

I remember how I could go on and on about how I went shopping and came home, and then went out to McDonalds, went for my first driving class, went for my maths tuition…all this in one entry.  How come I cannot do that anymore?

There was this stage where I felt guilty if I didn’t blog about every event in my life. I admit it sounds kind of pathetic now. The 17 year old me would be gasping in shock, accusing me of depriving priceless memoirs to my future generations. I blogged about every thing that sometimes my friends had to ask me to kindly remove a thing or two. Oh, how I hated it when people requested me to remove things off my blog. But along the way, I learned more about respect and self constrain.

I think I self constrained a little too much. I’ve no intentions of going back to the way I once was because as much as I miss it, I don’t think it is anything to be proud of.

Though I love all the things that come with blogging – the people you meet, the reading materials for your procrastinating needs, the readers, the way random strangers can answer your most difficult questions and later on, the material perks.

But I don’t know if I’m the only one, I cringe at the term bloggers. I am proudly one, yes I am! But I do cringe at the term bloggers. Granted that there is no other word to represent this community of people who record their lives in pictures and words and consequently gain a following of sorts, but somehow or other, the word “blogger” sometimes sound wannabe to me. People who can write and people who cannot write, people who take good photography and people who take self photography to crappy scratchy phone camera pictures, they are still bloggers. It is beautiful to be able to come together under one name but at the same time it just makes you feel awkward. What am I if I am not her?

I think about what I have become in recent years. I am no longer honest. I am not myself. It hurts to know that.

I then think about what I want to be in the coming years. Can I still take embarrassing photos of myself and call it a day? Have I not ran out of ideas already? Are bloggers inexhaustible?

One day, i will hopefully graduate and become a full fledged dentist. Though it is not in my nature to be arrogant but think about it, with a Dr. to my name, wouldn’t it be silly to still continue blogging in the way that I have grown to become? This so called blogger who fluctuates between days long hiatuses, a bit of advertorials here and there, photos of gatherings, pointless photos of this and that and desperate attempts to make strangers laugh. What am I trying to do really? Has my diary been reduced to something so superficial?

I want to stop blogging when I graduate.

I actually suddenly feel extremely sad as i typed the sentence above.

It’s not easy you know. Letting go of something that I have placed so much importance in. Even though blogging shouldn’t be considered a priority in the first place as there are far more important things in life to do like graduate from university and build a career. You have no idea how engrossed I have become, how superficial I have become because I have a blog. I used to be so proud that I have a few hundred readers but now I realize that it pales in comparison to what a blogger can actually achieve. I’m so pathetic that I even feel a flurry of excitement when some stranger tells me that they read my blog. I feel so pathetic that I have become this stupid narcissist. Though I assure you I have toned down quite a bit, you wouldn’t want to know how I was like in the last quarter of 2005.

I can’t believe I’m writing this out. I think I found the waterfall!

Spare me the talk about how blogging should be for yourself. Duh, if blogging was for myself, I wouldn’t have gone off to buy a dot com for myself. If I wanted to blog for myself, I can easily do that and go get a livejournal account or something.

I wonder how the bigger bloggers feel. Do you miss the person you once were? Does fame go to your head so bad like how that little bit (SO PATHETIC OMG) did for me? I scoff at my own narcissism. I despise it. I really do. I feel so so pathetic for thinking, “oooo….i wonder why they like reading me..oooooo..why is she staring at me? maybe from my blog? oooooooo”. But I’m learning to let those feelings go. I know where I stand. I’m grateful if the opportunities come knocking but really, I know what I’m worthy of. And it’s not much.

Another two years should be just nice and then I’ll take off. I’m tired of thinking of what I want to say that won’t hurt others, that won’t make people judge me, that won’t make my father call me up and scold me, that won’t land me in jail, that won’t ….make me sound like a complete bore. Oh god.

I guess sometimes I do feel as if I have reached my sell-by date.