Three years ago, I told my mom I wanted a blog. I remember the day it happened. We were in the kitchen, the air smelling like warm food and feeling like sunshine. We were cooking, it was almost dinnertime.
I started first, “Mom I want to get a blog. I know a lot of people have one. I think it would be really cool, cause I can design it myself and you know, have my own space to write and stuff.” What I didn’t tell her was that I wanted to be cool like everyone else. Because if cool people had blogs, I wanted one; then I’d be cool too. #logic.
My mom didn’t need to think about it. “You need to finish school first,” she replied, as if starting a blog was just like all the other things I couldn’t do because I wasn’t an adult yet.
I hate to say it, but I’m an adult now, so I have to admit hard things: my mom was right. I am the worst procrastinator. I usually choose the jobs I like the best over the ones I actually need to get done. Mom knew this, even if I wasn’t going to admit it.
It’s probably better that I didn’t impulsively start a blog, back then. Sixteen year old me probably had nothing worthwhile to say, and wouldn’t have any idea how to say it if she did. Nineteen year old me has more to say, and hopefully, the writing experience to go with it.
Now that I have a blog, a piece of this vast internet-scape for my very own, I have to spend time with it. I have to engage an audience, people who will show up to hear what I have to say. And to do that, I have to be writing. Always. Consistently. Well.
Something I’ve never been good at doing.
Writing is something I do in spurts. At best, it’s random and messy. So, why did I think I could start a blog? Well, maybe it’s because I want to be better at writing. Because I want to write about the important things. And I know I want to be better at translating the unspeakable into the speakable – to give definition and voice to the things that we just can’t put our fingers on. I’ve always heard, “You learn by doing.”
I don’t always want to write about serious things. Life isn’t always serious, and if it was, I think we’d all give up early. Sometimes I want to write about creativity and music and aesthetics and light and breath and air. I mean, what is life without them anyway?
Maybe having a blog won’t make me as cool as I thought it would. When I was sixteen, I thought being cool was all that mattered. What does a sixteen year old know about being cool, anyway? In three years, I’ve learned a lot of things. One of them is that being cool is far less about what you have than what you do.
I am no longer aiming to be cool. Just to be writing.