Making a return? Well, in a sense, yes.
Me in a nutshell: passionate one moment and abandonment the next. That’s how I felt about this blog. What initially started as a personal project of mine, I wrote eagerly and it quickly consumed me. I have to admit that it is my trait that I tend to yo-yo. I felt the rush of a self imposed weekly deadline (however ridiculous that sounds) for no logical explanation. Where I last left off was 2020, almost a lifetime ago if I wanted to be dramatic. Although in the digital world, it really would be many lifetimes ago. I had originally decided to take a break, a pause, in posting content (such an unflattering word along with influencer). A month turned into two, then oozed into a leisurely 17 months. I vowed I would return soon but it became easier to neglect this online space I started.
Deadlines I self imposed was mainly why I felt that way. The blog masqueraded itself as a job. I was playing the amateur journalist who one day hopes to be published with a few bestsellers under his belt. I’m none of those things and I’m not trying to be. I’m not writing for a newspaper or a publication so, why did it matter?
In short, it doesn’t. I’m not a professional content creator, influencer or spokesperson. It doesn’t matter if I disappeared, frankly no one would care (I promise it is not a cry for help). What I mean is that this is still just a diary of my thoughts whether I post weekly or erratically.
I was essentially stuck for words
Stuck for words would fall under and being stuck in a rut which in itself is a well documented phenomenon. Research papers, health line organisations and even publications like Forbes have covered this. Ironically, I even contemplated on writing about being stuck but what value was that going to add? None.
So I’m making a return back to writing as I do enjoy the lengthy process of putting thought to words.
Words connect the author to the reader. Certainly particular styles of writing resonate differently with others. It’s true that I’m no author nor have many readers, but I seemed to have also reconnected with people I had not spoken with for a very very long time. I’m sure by no means an accident they came across my little patch of internet, but still, I’m grateful for it.
Writing, in the traditional sense, is a form of lost art. Writing is a skill after all. I remember fondly the giddy anticipation and joy of reading long emails when I first travelled in order to get updates from my friend back home. I would read and re-read them knowing it could be days or weeks before I would get another email after I replied. Writing is so pared down now. As I’m typing this sentence, I’ve had to stop and dig into settings to turn off predictive typing, auto correction and word suggestions. With everything so ‘smart’ and instant, sending a quick message requires no deliberation or careful choice of words.
I must have said before that when I was much younger, I wanted to be a writer (back in my studious and possibly much more passionate phase). Whether an 11 year old should be trusted on correctly identifying and subsequently committing to a career choice is a completely separate issue. Maybe one day this may blossom into my meant-to-be profession. After all, stranger things have happened. All that was to say this space hasn’t flatlined and I’m making a return to posting my ramblings.
