Lately I’m not bogging much, and I feel a bit guilty in case someone is expecting something from this blog.
One reason for this is that the Internet is so slow that I have to constantly move around the room to make it work. I found out that the best place to blog from is where all the trash is, and this is also the darkest corner of the room. Perhaps this makes blogging more real and raw, but it also leads to headaches and poor eye sight.
The other reason is that blogging feels detached and empty, maybe because almost everything in my life feels that way, but it changed after a while, maybe it became too common and open and did not feel as personal anymore, not as spontaneous, either.
So-after tearing out some pages of emotive writing and then some other pages of family history writing (they belong in a seperate category)-I started blogging on good old paper with a fountain pen. That feeling is so much better, I really feel more relieved. I have something tangible that contains my thoughts and I can come back to them any time. They stay on my four drawer dresser while I am asleep.