Have you ever felt that moment of astonishment, where you suddenly realize that you are not exactly the same person you were a year ago? You see a photograph and wonder how in the world did you end up wearing such a hideous outfit or meetup with friends and remember a party, to find yourself thinking, how would you have gotten so drunk. The scenario might be different but the feeling of strangeness with one’s own self, the old self, creeps into the mind making us wonder. I’m sure most have felt. Some might revel in pride over the past achievements, some might regret doing things they did, others might feel they have actually changed for the better. Or may be something entirely different. It is different to different people.
I have been blogging since 2006. Holy s**t! I know. And I still have the old blog “It’s A Beautiful Life” (in case anybody still remembers). I am not going to delete it any sooner, as I have some very closely held memories of feelings, captured in that. When I am finally ready to let go of all that, I shall let go of the blog too. But for now, it is to stay. Sorry for digression, I do it a lot.
So here I was, reading through the old blog, post by post and trying to remember and feel whatever I felt, when I was writing it. It all started coming back. Not ready to let go then. But that is not what intrigued me. It was the way I wrote, that caught my mind. I almost laughed at how I had actually reflected the styles of the authors I was reading back then. It was childish, but it was something I did subconsciously.
I am not ashamed that I tried to copy others. I can see that those are the stages of my growth, in my own sense. I feel strangely proud at having tried. Clearly, I wrote for myself, because I found many posts with absolutely no comments. I was writing to vent, so that the angst and anger didn’t eat me up from inside. It is not surprising that many people didn’t find it interesting. As I said, childish stuff. I also found some nice, soulful poetry. It is when I read them, that it struck to me, that I am not doing it anymore. Not with that kind of frequency and brilliance. Where did that emotional, lyrical and dreamy girl go?
As I went through the posts, out of which most were purely venomous, I found that I was blabbering in a majority of them, instead of speaking about something clearly. I realized that instead of making a point I was dragging myself all over the place, confusing myself and others in the process. I guess that one attribute is still there in me. When I have issues and I know I can’t talk about them, I tend to blabber incoherently. Hopefully I won’t do it here.
I also felt that I have grown. Tremendously. I thought I was mature back then. May be I was, in my behavior and outlook. But in my writing, I was completely juvenile. And I am a little taken aback, to see myself now, clearly putting thoughts into words, spending time thinking how I want to articulate a certain thing. Blog, for me, is no more just a place to write my mind, but a place of a purpose. To mend my writing skills, to get feedback and improve. I want to write something of value, if not for others, but to myself. Of course, it will still remain a place where I put my innermost thoughts, now, in a better fashion. Or so I’d like to believe.
I’m sure that someday I will read this and laugh at myself. After all this too is still a baby step. I’m sure there will be a lot of things that I will learn every day from well-known writers, websites and blogs. I am fortunate to have been exposed to so much information and learning. I am hopeful to make use of it and come up with beautiful, thoughtful, hopeful, cheerful (among many other things) write-ups, which might sometimes also be insane, given that I am incurably crazy. That is going to stay with me forever, for I believe insanity is a blessing in disguise.