missing in action.
It's been roughly 2 months since my last blogging endeavor. A break, a sabbatical, a leave of absence; whatever you wanna call it, I was on it. It wasn't something that had any forethought or planning, it came naturally and of it's own accord. I had become so busy with school, my frantic job search (that proved rewarding), my sister's pending nuptials, & all the other little things that seem to weasel their way into my life. Unconsciously I began to loosen the reins on my sweet site, and now 8 weeks later, I'm oh so glad I did.
I'm going to be so bold as to say that I think blogging is a talent of mine, albeit mediocre. But talents, no matter big or small, are detrimental in our discovery of ourselves. Talents are to be nursed and nurtured so that they may be developed and strengthened, but there is a fragile balance that demands to be had. To obsess and nitpick over every detail of that talent causes for feelings of insignificance and worthlessness, both of which I am too familiar with. Our talents are our own and should not be set against the talents of others. How are we to see personal growth when we look only at the growth of those around us?
On the flip side pride and neglect are equally as destructive. Our small seeds of talent have incomparable potential, potential to grow into mighty oaks of capacity and capability. But if we were to withhold a willing and guiding hand, then that seed would be lost to a drought of devotion. Balance is key. There must be equal efforts in work and play. When I first started blogging it was an escape from a paper diary, a quicker way to get my thoughts down before they flitted away. I was very lax and didn't really work for it. Fast forward a year or so, and my blog was constantly a tenant in my mind. I was determined to build it up and craved praise and success. Although I worked hard I always felt a step behind my so-called "competitors". It was no longer a creative outlet, but the root of stress and feelings of inadequacy. I believe my subconscious forced me into recess, to help distance me from unnecessary tension that I had inflicted upon myself.
Now, for the love of words.
Don't write to say that you do, write for the love of words.
I refuse to give into the idea that creativity can fully function on a deadline. A post a day is nothing but routine unless backed by some level of substance. I don't want nonsensical fluff scraped from the bottom of the barrel. I don't want to be forced to bite my tongue, at a loss for words, simply writing to fill a weekly quota. I want to write words that beg to be read, and reread. I don't want the feeling of obligation to be the sole reason for my literary creation.
I want to write for the love of words.
So there you have it, the reason for my reprieve.