New year is often used as a chance to do something new and exciting. People start out with grand ambitions to lose weight, get fit, and generally supercharge themselves. Most of the time these crash out within two weeks. I have never bothered with resolutions. I’ve always been perfectly happy with my comfortable belly and not being particularly strong. My end to 2021 however turned out to be so out of the ordinary that it got me thinking about changes that I should make.
It started off with a mere whimper. Two days before I went into isolation. Like many people before, I took a lateral flow test while getting ready to go out, only to be confronted with the dreaded double red lines. Therefore, instead of celebrating in a pub with my friends as I had planned, I spent it in bed with an ever-increasing pile of tissues courtesy of my runny nose and drinking nothing more interesting than water. Hardly an exciting start to the year, but a start that allowed plenty of time for contemplation. What did I want to do differently this year?
Decluttering was the first thing I thought of, but my issue is that I’m a notoriously sentimental person. I can pick up an object and remember when and how I got it, or who gave out to me and feel very reluctant to dispose of it. The amount of useless crap I have lying around is unbelievable. I have had an owl metronome on my windowsill for the last 5 years and never once used it, yet still feel compelled to keep it. I didn’t want to go vegetarian or stop drinking (I like my meat and beer) and going to the gym has always seemed far too exhausting for my taste. It was while I was sitting on my bed in contemplation that the idea of writing a blog resurfaced.
In the past I have considered writing a blog. Never in any detail but I know the things I like talking about, and I like sharing my opinions. After on general election when I wrote an exhaustive analysis and shared it on Facebook, a friend of mine told me I should consider writing a blog. While intrigued at the time by the idea, I filed it under the mental “maybe” category. I didn’t feel particularly motivated and I didn’t really have the time. The occasional rant was fine but attempting to do it even on a weekly basis seemed a lot of effort. My complete lack of any experience was another negating factor. I liked the idea of writing my thoughts online, but was too scared to commit.
While in isolation sitting on my bed, my thoughts returned once more to writing. I was in isolation with only two rooms for access, so I certainly couldn’t be accused of not having enough time. It would make a change from playing video games, and it would be using my time productively to improve myself. Ultimately, I couldn’t think of any reasons why I shouldn’t give it a go. I would be doing it for myself, so didn’t need to worry about being judged. The worst that could happen is that I lose interest and shut it down, but the potential benefits far outweigh any negatives.
I really enjoy writing, when I get down to it, but I never think what I put out will be good enough. I agonise if I should add or take away words, debating with myself whether they’re superfluous or useful to the meaning. Dialogue I am terrible at, never being able to think of the words as natural for an actual conversation. Yet creating a new world, or eloquently putting down a thought does bring real joy to me. If people read my work then like it, then that’s a bonus
So here it begins. It may be a tremendous success; it may be a dismal failure. Likely it will be somewhere in between. But if by creating this blog I can in some small way improve my writing, then it will all have been worth it.
댓글