People begin blogs for all kinds of reasons, and we’ll probably never know the whole list of why. But we create them anyway. Every single day a new blog goes up, a new update, a picture, a short or long post, a quote. All kinds of things are posted into the world of no return that is the internet, because once it’s posted it’s never really gone is it? The idea is no longer private, you can’t deny the fact that you wrote what you wrote because chances are someone managed to read it before you took it down, that is, if you took it down. And where exactly is this going anyway? I don’t really know. I began this with the intention of posting something, anything, because I wanted to. Simple as that. I was in the mood to go online, log into this blog, run my hands over my laptop’s chicklet keyboard, and feel the click beneath my fingers. I felt like watching letters appear on my screen, watch the characters form words, sentences, thoughts, ideas, questions. There are so many questions and thoughts that lead to more questions. Just today, in Spanish Lit Analysis, for example, we were going over how a language creates its own categories when referring to objects, and how a language reflects a person’s way of thinking. How does that work? I found myself asking. How is that possible? isn’t it the other way around, don’t I utilize my languages to relay what I want to say, what I think, what I feel? Well, apparently not. My languages limits me because it is they that define how I express myself. Crazy, don’t you think? But amazing at the same time.

Again, I forgot where this was going. Where was I going? Oh, right, the nature of the blog. The reasons why people create blogs, update blogs, follow blogs. Like I said before, they are many. In my case, I started a blog because I like the attention that it gets, that my words, sentences, paragraphs get. I wonder sometimes what my readers think when they are reading, I probably come off as annoying, or mundane. That’s alright though, I don’t mind (much). Can’t please everyone now, can I? What has been annoying me lately, however, is my own inability to post what I really want to say. It’s that automatic self-censorship that we’re all programmed with at an early age, that voice in our head that echoes society’s beliefs of what is right and what is wrong to say, or even think. That little voice is quite powerful, don’t you think? It’s strong enough to murder an idea just before I manage to transfer it to the screen, the idea dies before I even touch the keys or form the first word. Pop, it’s gone. I am left empty, as I should be. After all, if I can’t say anything nice, I might as well say nothing at all, right?

But, do I really want to be mean? Do I really want to write strange things that piss people off or simply make them feel uncomfortable? No, not really, but I’d like to have the option to. I’d like to face that little voice and kill it before it kills that bit of me forming in the back of my mind, that sprout struggling against years of ice. Am I being too dramatic? Maybe. Am I making sense? I have no idea. Do I care? No, not really.

What else is there to say? Well, I guess what I meant to from the very beginning: I plan to write as honestly as possible from now on. Wish me luck.



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