navel gazing
in my mind, blogging had the appeal of being a journal, creative output and connection with the world all wrapped in one. what fun, i thought, everyone can see these thoughts that are so interesting to me! everyone will love to read about the inner workings of my mind and the things that i find insightful! while that may be partly true, it’s also true that when you write for yourself, it’s likely that the person who will most enjoy reading it is you. on your own blog, you can indulge in certain musings that would bore even your friends and loved ones to tears. you might find yourself focusing on your own thoughts to an unhealthy point where nothing constructive is gained, just because you can, just because the void is listening.
that’s about where i’m at with this blog right now. i’m reluctantly putting out posts about whatever ordinary thought comes to mind, but i’m a bit sick of listening to myself talk. i feel like i’ve run out of ideas, but not because i actually have, but because the ideas feel stale and i don’t like the way i string the thoughts together. i also had a few conversations going with lovely readers that i haven’t responded to lately, mainly because i can’t bring myself to respond in a thoughtful enough manner to match the level of care that they seem to have put into their messages. i suppose i shouldn’t think of it that way, but i want my replies to reflect how genuinely grateful i am for their attention. it still feels so surreal that i put all of myself out there and people have genuinely understood a part of me, the real me, this unfiltered version who isn’t seeking validation, and that they have even taken valuable time out of their lives to let me know??? these moments almost make all the internet bullshit worth it, all the ads, tracking, feeds, bots, ai, everything is rotten on the internet now, but this connection from a stranger makes the techno optimist online communities dream feel alive again.
but here i come, blundering in with uninformed views about policies and unemployment rates and europe. here i write, still hoping someone will find it subtly brilliant, the same way you would pin up your 5-year-old’s drawing on the wall. _yes she’s striving, she’s got motion, look at her on a roll _, the invisible audience roars. give me a house for my parents without me having to lift a finger. give me something for my stream of consciousness, something for my time!!! give me your attention!!! if you can’t do that, at the very least just tell me it meant something!!!!! tell me i touched your heart.
we young women are often told to make ourselves bigger, take up more space in the room, that we are undervaluing ourselves and if we just speak up, people will hear how intrinsically brilliant we are. that’s not the case. speaking up brings criticism, a feedback loop, and the acceptance, understanding and integration of the feedback is what makes a person great. by shutting down that feedback loop, you are preventing a person from growing. this is why it’s actively harmful to avoid delivering negative feedback to your employees, but that’s somewhat obvious and i digress. i realized that even here, i crave validation, and i need to get around that by posting somewhat embarrassing posts like this to convince myself to continue writing just for myself and not for that little like bar, but also to figure out what it really is that i could be writing for.
the unfortunate truth is that my writing sounds like twitter because that’s what i read the most. i want to read real books, but real books take so much time to read, and for what? a slightly spicy opinion that i could have co-opted from my favorite scientist’s twitter? no, i have to stop thinking like this. nothing sticks anymore. i forget facts and statistics. i forget narratives.
i guess it’s time to buckle in and stop producing short-form content. i plan to write more about what this will look lika in the next few days or so. it’s a big wide world we could be writing about, none of it in my head!