Blogging

I don't blog as much as I used to and I'm troubled by it.

I've often wondered, 'What if I reach a certain age, say 30 or 40 years old, and I look back at this blog and marvel at all this writing I've done'. In other words, I fear what I'll become in the future, and that my relationship with reading and writing will be a mere fluke in the story of my life.

Why is that such a problem? Why do I have this idea that reading and writing is an integral part of a good life?

Lately I've found that my desire to write is being subsumed by my desire to reflect.

My desire to write was previously wrapped up with a need to be accepted, a need to be praised, a need to fit in. Homelessness has been a problem for me. I've not felt like I've belonged anywhere in quite a long time. Though I wasn't conscious of this when I applied to graduate school, I really wanted that to be a home for me. A place where I would be greeted and protected in a certain way. I don't know if it could have served that function for me, but I assumed it would. I'm not sure why.

Now that that world is less of a priority (or possibility) for me I no longer think of my writing in the same way.

My real business is reflection. My real business is taking care of myself and keep tracking of myself. My business is paying attention.

Is blogging a way for me to pay attention? Does it aid me in my goal of being reflective?

I think so.

I am currently working on an essay that I'm really enjoying. It's been a lot of fun. Same authors (Clausewitz, Collingwood, MacIntyre, etc.), but lots of new thoughts, new ideas. It feels great. It pushes me in my day to day life, it keeps me sharp, it provides me with 'aha' moments in which I feel like I've made a break through.

I feel pained sometimes because I think that my serious thinking will just be a fad or temporary obsession in my life. I have had (I confess) many obsessive hobbies in my past: model building, hackey sack, flat land biking, video games. I've seriously pursued a variety of hobbies throughout my relatively short life.

Will serious thinking and reflecting be yet another one of these obsessive hobbies? I suspect not. Yet I fear the answer is a yes. I fear this is just an episode in my life where I try to think seriously and where it doesn't all amount to much.

Ha.

The fear! I quote two songs for you: "Motherfuck, the fear is back. The fear is back, the fear is back. No place to hide my shamefulness, no place to hide my discontent." A lovely song by John Maus. Another song: "This fear, that lives inside of me, subsides far too infrequently."

In the last two years I've managed to identify the way that fear has dominated my life. It's been a governing emotion. How strange to acknowledge and to understand that I've been ruled by fear. Some say CREAM, cash rules everything around me. I, on the other hand, say FREAM, fear rules everything around me. I've been working hard to minimize the role of fear in my life.

I, much like Kevin McAllister, am not afraid anymore. I am ready to confront my life, whatever that means, whatever it will take.

And I know, I hope, that reflection will be a central part of it. All I can ask for is to be able to step outside myself on occassion, to maintain some perspective on myself, and to laugh and cry often.