In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Scale.”
You’ll probably want to know why I started a blog.
Or you probably won’t. Especially since you currently don’t exist, as I have zero followers. Well, gotta start somewhere, right?
And I started! Now if you’d give me a little confidence boost, that would be great. Here’s why you should.
Why do I write? Because I love writing. I love the strategy behind the words. I love the way they flow through my head to merge into sentences. I love the variety of possibilities – the blast of freedom.
Why do I write a blog? Because I have opinions to share – about society, youth, money, education, science, art, yes, even about writing itself. About how things work, how they don’t work, how they should or might work. About – things.
Why should you read what I write? Because I want your opinion. I want to discuss things with you; I want to know what you think about my writing, ideas, views and beliefs. Anything is welcome, from a fiery debate to a friendly chat, as long as people have something to say.
I may not always take a stand in my posts. I may not always write a stand-related post. My only stand may sometimes be that I like the steak I’ve had for dinner. But my blog is about my life, so I suppose that if the steak’s the highlight of my day, then that’s what you’ll get. However, if that happens, be sure I’ll make it the best damn steak-related post you’ll ever read.
P.S. Speaking of steaks, I’m aware that my writing can be a bit hard to chew sometimes. I’m trying to work on a reader-friendly language, but the change is a slow and painful process, so any writers out there with words of advice, reach out and touch me!
sex: not yet
expectations: none of the above
life goal: 1
post reach: 0
Here I sit watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the millionth time, wondering what I have done in the past 11 months and 25 days.
Well, less than I expected, that’s for sure.
As much as I love decorating and getting ready and eating all the holliday food, when Christmas actually comes, I come to realize that the preparations are what I enjoy the most; the day alone makes me think of my long-time uselessness and disappointment due to the fact that I’ve had a hundred things on my to-do-this-year list, and I had only done twelve.
What happens to me during the year? What is it that makes me forget what I’ve planned, what I’ve wanted, what I’ve set out to do? Am I really that much of an idiot?
And it’s the same sad story every year: I keep complaining and complaining, but do I ever do something about it? No, I do not. Instead I keep complaining and blaming both the world and myself. It’s exhausting.
Maybe a hundred things is just too much. Maybe I should just settle for fifteen, and then I’ll be happy with my twelve. The thing is, I have too much undone that’s dragging along all the way from the previous years.
All the while I’m feeling tired, so tired, and seemingly I’m not even doing anything.
Wow. That’s some optimism, I know.
You know what? I may have not accomplished things on my list, but I’ve done many other things that came along the way. Those things were as important to me as were those on the list, and I’ve definitely succeeded in managing them just the right way. So, do I complain? Am I ashamed? No. You can’t plan up your entire year anyway. The best you can hope for is handling the unexpected well, and slowly but safely finishing the expected. I’m not complaining. I’m sitting on my couch and laughing at the crazy year I’ve had. Man, it was twisted… And it still is. I’ve got five more days to do more crazy things, useful things, happy things.