It is exceptionally difficult to restart something once stopped. A daily habit, eating a particular meal at a restaurant, learning a skill mid-session. Sometimes it is because you have lost interest, or because it is no longer relevant or needed. Or you have found something new to occupy your time. And the greater distance you place between yourself and whatever that thing might be, the harder it is to pick it up, dust it off, and make it a part of your life again. How do you rediscover its relevance or importance? Or redefine it so it may become relevant and important again? And how do you, the absentee owner of whatever has been left by the side of the road to wherever you were going, explain said absence? “Oh, sorry, you were too big. Too awkward. Too unrelated to my daily life. Too outdated. Too something-or-whatever to make it worth my while.” How do you avoid feeling guilty and responsible for the thick layers of dust that coat whatever it was you once held in your everyday life, or close to your heart, or told all your friends and family about because you were so proud?
This, for me, is no new phenomenon. Maybe not for anyone.
I have gone through phases of loving something until the ends of the earth, investing all of my time and energy and relationships into making whatever it was a part of my life. It has been everything: tap-dancing, convincing Johnny Depp/Russell Brand/Daniel Day-Lewis/Robert Downey Jr/Alec Baldwin that I just happen to be the love of their life (obviously when we meet at exceptionally random but totally fabulous events in which I accept various awards and generous praise), basketball, painting, learning to bake the perfect replica of my mother’s chocolate cake, volleyball, discovering ways to become a real-life princess, writing a funny, heartbreaking, meaning-of-life exposing novel, writing a funny, dark, independent movie (possibly starring Steve Buscemi, Angelina Jolie, and Meryl Streep), reading the entire published works of Shakespeare and Kerouac, becoming fluent in the history of the American Revolution and the culture of Tarantino films, starting a company, owning a pony, traveling the world, learning various languages. For some emergent reason or another, many of these have fallen, if not out of favor, then out of my daily consciousness. I don’t love them any less, in fact listing them here makes me miss them and rationalize how to bring them back into my life. I think it is only natural that human interest grows and wanes dependent on what our day-to-day realities, and this short list is far from comprehensively covering everything that has flitted in and out of my little brain-box.
And to add to this long random list: blogging.
I hate blogging. I love blogging. I [insert other cliché] blogging.
It is everything great about the internet: people bringing their unique piece of the universe with their specialized knowledge and experiences together, despite extreme differences in distance, time, culture, or language to create a new marketplace for ideas, a network of specialists and students, and some kind of super-knowledge for those who know how to access it. You can ask the world for advice. Inspire and share your opinions with others. Contribute to the mobilization of ideas and of people. Become a guru, or an inspiration. The internet could be the greatest thing we have ever learned – SHARING.
It can also be everything I hate. The internet can horribly succumb to the idea that if everyone is given a microphone, all they will do is talk on and on and on about the tedium of their lives. (Guilty.) You can bore people with your thoughts. Offend them. Get caught up in the idea of your own importance. Invest your entire existence to the nebulous online life and lose track of what is important in your day-to-day. You can become obsessive about reading some sites, even if they have no real meaning to your life or waste your time (or provide prime procrastination material) with silly puns, gifs of popular rappers, hipster-hatred, or celebrity gossip. (Guilty guilty.) (Might I also suggest Foodie-Love, fancy letterhead, and teen-dream styling while we are on that topic.) One can confuse the all-important sharing with whining about one’s personal life, or snootily being a know-it-all about something else.
Blogging, for me, had become a way to share my experiences with people when I ventured off to random places. Or add my opinions to a growing pile on anything from foreign policy to development to my diversifying and random tastes in music. But what happened when I quit venturing off? When a crisis confidence made me reconsider the value (or the relevancy, for that matter) of my opinion? What becomes of this blog when I feel I have nothing left to share? I had such high hopes for this blog to be an amalgam of chronicle, editorial, vision-creator, photo-and-recipe-sharer, important link that you, dear reader, feel the need to click on every so often. What if I fail at all that? Worse, what if I bore you? Or perhaps even worse – what if rereading this I bore myself, or find that I have made nothing real here? That nothing has happened in my life that even warrants free online publishing?
It’s not that nothing has happened since February. Many large things in fact. One of the largest has been the unexpected disappearance of my motivation, and for a great many things. General feelings of disconnection and disarray to the rest of the world. Discovering a direction for what I want to do with my life. Beginning the ending of my career as a student at Georgia Tech. Making decisions. Being alive, but for some reason or another, not knowing what that means.
And so, I have decided to chance it. Overcome my fear of being ordinary and disconnected and utterly unimportant. Build ideas, share them, and form new ones. Chronicle the changes and decisions that will take me through the next year and the next and the next. I will revive this dusty blog, if not in hopes to contribute to the greater goal of sharing and inspiring and being inspired, then at least to attempt to do so by sharing my thoughts and my life and anything else that might happen to flutter across my brain-box.