Blogging is a funny thing. It’s a form of catharsis, it’s a humble brag, it’s an attempt to be witty or intelligent or profound or all three. Writing my thoughts as if I have some sort of authority to say something important makes me feel self-conscious, as if I’m pretending to be something I’m not. But these large waves of insecurity are always studded with the reminder that practice makes results all the better, and this whole thing called “blogging” won’t get any more less weirder by thinking about it and weighing its merits.
So I’ve decided to write again. With the hopes that it will spark some sort of creative revolution that inspires me to do more with my life and discover new things by trying to articulate my thoughts and desires. I guess that has always been the theme of my posts, however scarce and scattered they may be. What’s that idiom about repetition again? Oh, a broken record. Wow that actually came from my mind without the help of Google. What a miracle.
Ok, so here are my rules. I’ll blog once a week, minimum. Maybe I’ll even post photos and start posting recipes again. I do miss that. And there’ll be no pretension, no hesitation — just attemptingly witty, intelligent, profound words that come from my own mind and heart, or so I will try.