I’ve been reading Andrea’s blog lately. Normally, I don’t read blogs of people I’ve never met1, and even though I’ve met Andrea, I’ve never had a penetrating conversation with her, let alone gotten to know her. Andrea’s blog is a little different though. To the uninitiated, it’s a regular journal, but there are bits of insight and emotion scattered throughout that leave you feeling like you’re looking at someone stoned, naked, and through their kitchen window. The ordinary mixed with a dash of extraordinary is what truly gives one a sense of empathy, and it was this that drew me in.
It’s been making me feel so fucking nostalgic.
I remember being in that stage of life. Back in school. Getting drunk. Chasing girls. Unsure of anything but the way I was feeling in that exact moment.
It’s made me realize that I don’t write like I used to. My entries used to be so experimental. Aside from a single sentence as a last, concluding line2, and a penchant for being a little too personal, I hadn’t developed a particular writing style. Back when I posted something almost three times a day because I had to. When my posts had no titles (the same way Andrea has nothing but an incrementing number and location stamp) because they were about everything and nothing in particular.
Now, there’s too much purpose to my writing. Carefully planned out posts, trying to express something specific, without the stream-of-consciousness I used to enjoy. Lost is the old whimsical nature, the ordinary mixed with the extraordinary. I never used to care whether something was significant enough to post, and would just write it and hit that publish button.
I miss it.
But I can’t tell if it’s the way I used to write, or my life back then, that I miss.
How true, how true. I’ve a dozen different posts a day, itching to splay themselves across the web, yet I hold back because of what I think a “blog” is and who I feel I need to write to.
Everything I write is first-draft; something I’ve been chastised for my complete strangers in the past, yet still scripted and organized as I know you know what I mean.
I think we lose our stream of consciousness, not as adults, per say, but as individuals, putting our wares on the street knowing others are reading. It’s changed my writing for sure, despite the lack thereof.
Keep pushing, Jeff. FTW. Write the moment.
You understand exactly what I was saying in this post. I’ve also tried the first-draft approach, but then I just end up thinking a lot and planning out my entry before I start writing anything.
I’ll keep pushing if you do.
I too noticed a difference, but just couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
On the one hand the previous spontaneity created beautiful writing, on the other the way you now write reflects more maturity and rationality in personal development, plus emotional stability. I’m not sure which I think is better, but I sure miss the beautiful writing. Can you alternate ?
I find it interesting that you could tell how much my writing as changed, because I don’t think many people could. It takes going back through the archives, which not many have done since they span six years of consistent writing.
It’s hard for me to alternate, or to go back to my old writing style. I feel like it’s more rough and incomplete, and hence inferior, even though that’s exactly what makes it interesting.
I did read your archives, way back :)
That’s very impressive and flattering.
I don’t miss my over earnest inner muddles of drama and the Need to Express. The preciousness feels now like a preamble;can finally get down to something without the clutter of Mattering Terribly.
Seeing you step into the present and saying, wow, that was nice, but transitory and honoring the ephemeral with faith that more will come, that’s a nice development to see.
Preciousness to you is purpose to me. If I could lose it, I don’t think I’d miss it either.
I miss myself terribly. In print and out.
Things began architecturally and have decayed for me.
Missing the self (out of print) is something different entirely. That says a lot more about you than an old writing style.
I’ve read that four times and I’m still not sure how you mean that.… tell me elsewhere?