why I'm a blogger.

Now Playing: Two Way Street (Live at Sing Sing) by Kimbra (and I think I'm ready for you to get under my skin)

A lot of people ask me why I am a blogger. Why I bother. How I can even begin to find the time, or the energy, or the motivation, to write.

I know I have a pretty low traffic blog. I know exactly what it takes to get a high traffic blog, but I don't do it. I always knew what I wanted for this blog; I wanted a place, just one place in the whole world, where I could just be me. Where I could voice my opinions, anything that is on my mind, and have the comfort, the solace, that someone, somewhere is reading them.

What I have on my hands is so, so much more than I ever thought possible.

A lot of people think I am wasting my time, writing on my blog, because I don't print out my blog, hand it to my teacher, and get a grade for it. As an English student, I know that is not true. Any writing is better than no writing. The freedom of unassessed work, of writing things with the exquisite liberation from scrutiny, is bliss. Truly. I love it. And, to be perfectly honest, it has helped a lot with my writing. This is the kind of writing that I know, that I love best. You have no idea how comforting it is, to eagerly pull out the writing section of the English paper, and relax as I write a blog post. A blog post that nobody will read, sure, but I'm in my element. When I write, I've had four years of practice. I like to think that I know what I'm doing.

I write on a blog because I wanted people to know that it doesn't matter how much you push me around, how cruel you are to me, I still have a say. I still have eyes and ears, and I still have a tongue. I'll send that text message without any qualms, and I'll dish out all your dirty laundry with a clear conscience. I like the power of a blog, even a blog as small as this one. It makes people sit up and pay attention to you.

I've always had a pretty good memory, but I've always had a very selective memory, too. There are some beautiful moments, and some very heartbreaking ones, that I want to record, somewhere, in a time capsule of my life. I am writing from a fascinating, and often very troubling time, and it will be interesting to look back at the growing pains. Nobody else can say that they can remember exactly what was going through the head of their twelve year old self. 

Blogging is also very personal. I'm not the kind of person who can bury secrets deep in their heart; it would slowly kill me. I need to talk, and blogging has been a much-needed outlet. It's very theraputic, to sit here and whinge to my heart's content. It would make for amazingly selfish conversation but, amusingly, pretty good reading. Ain't that a bitch?

Blogging has also had a very unexpected consequence. When I blog, I am myself. I'm not dressed up, I'm not wearing makeup, I'm not wearing a blank courtier's grin, I'm not fighting back tears. Blogging is sometimes as daunting and revealing as stepping on stage nude, but it's something we all should do from time to time. It's through my blog that I've had the courage to say that this is me, and I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not; and it's also through my blog that I've met the people who have taken a long, hard look at me and said 'you know what? I love you for you, too'.

I'm a blogger because I'm the kind of person who's head is always swimming. I'm a blogger because I'm that kid who's always spinning, forever spinning. I'm a blogger because I like to think that I'm not that kind of teenager lampooned by Hollywood and the mass media. I'm a blogger because we all have things worth saying, and ideas worth sharing, and there's something very healing in the deeply altruistic process of wearing your heart on your sleeve and putting all cards on the table.