Monday, September 14, 2009

Hello, Again.

i am so introspective right now.

So, I guess I haven't written on here in a long, long while. I am not sorry, because the break was much deserved, for both you and me, alike. But I am settled now; stable and connected to the world, so maybe it's time that I begin to share my thoughts again.

I am not sure who reads this, I never have been. Whether its all friends or friends and random people, or if really, im the only one, so its been hard for me to talk about myself and what ive been up to. Thats mostly due to the fact that i dont know how interested anyone really is, but then again, here you are...

So, now that I have you, i guess I should talk about my european adventure a bit, even though its still not over and not enough time has gone by for me to be ready to really talk about any of it. It's safe to say, though, that I have been having a good time. Right now, I am in Denmark and will be here officially, more or less, until towards the end of december. Before I came here, I was in a few other places, namely- and in reverse order- germany, czech republic, germany, holland, france, spain, and portugal. I've been all over, I suppose, to almost too many places in too short of a time. I spent a lot of time wandering around cities, awfully tired, terribly hungry, totally enamored and wholly enthralled. I wrote friends a lot of letters, but didnt send many of them. I also drew a lot of buildings and scribbles, many of which wont ever see the light of day, either. Ive also been writing a lot, but strangely, to myself. And maybe that's what ill focus on for this post.

I have always written for other people, either in school or letters, emails, blog posts, whatever. The process of writing is cathartic for me, but the content and scope of writing has always been written for the eyes and minds of others. And that's always been my favorite kind of writing, the kind that other people can look at, peer into, analyze; read. But lately, I've been writing for my own eyes only, keeping a diary of sorts. Mind you, this isnt a diary that is kept under lock and key, under my bed, and hidden from the world. I keep it in a tote bag and carry it around everywhere. It's not secret or hidden or really, private. I've just been writing... well, for myself and to myself. Sometimes, im not sure if i do the journal justice- it's quite beautifully bound and was given to me by someone special- but i try to cram a lot onto every page so that maybe, somewhere deep in that jumble of jagged lines that is my handwriting, ill begin to uncover something interesting about myself and what i think of the world. But not having a real audience is hard. Whether or not i care about what any other audience wants to hear, at least i sort of know more or less what they'd like to hear. This usually involves filtering my own ideas, choosing the right words, being subtle, etc. The problem is that I dont know what I want to hear. With myself, I dont have to filter at all. When I write to myself, everything I write is something my audience already knows, so holding back or filtering is entirely useless and even, limiting. Finally, I can say exactly what I think and feel. This is both wonderful and incredibly frightening.

Ive always been incredibly comfortable with my ideas as seen through the lens of what other people will think about them. But I am almost absolutely terrified of my ideas as seen through my own eyes. Writing for others entails a sort of unswerving belief in yourself that has no use when youre looking to write for yourself. And maybe this is helpful. I know it is. But that doesnt mean its easy or even, comfortable. So mostly, Ive been writing about the flaws i see in my own logic and lifestyle. I write a lot about how to make myself a better person, like a self help book written with the harsh, critical tone of a mexican mother. It's been helpful, but I am not sure if ive actually learned that much from myself yet. I also write a lot about food and the cute girls I meet. And buildings, sometimes, but all of my really righteous stuff, I save for you, whoever you are.

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