I changed the appearance of this blog a bit today, the previous background was suddenly very irritating to me.
Probably something similar to the way I get sudden intense urges to re-arrange my house, or parts of it at least… Which is really difficult to achieve in this tiny little house, there are only so many ways you can actually arrange so much furniture in such a small space. I've been contemplating rearranging my bedroom and office areas (which kinda both half serve office/workbench functions currently) but am having difficulty deciding whether the pros are worth the cons… Which is possibly why I suddenly had the urge to change the blog a bit lol, rearrangement frustration or something.
Anyway.. I am totally getting off the point which is, the counter on the page, which I put there some time ago and was always a bit too wide to fit properly, now fits.. And where I thought it said "66" it actually says "662" Which totally blew me away… the low count and few comments made me assume one or two people were maybe dropping in to have a look every other month, but it seems there are more frequent visits than I realised lol, hence the Whoa! Title…
Anyways, as I've mentioned I'm gradually working on my resurrected website when I have time.. I'll probably have the sad strange and dysfunctional poetry type things up first then somehow find a way to organise the other writing in some sort of order…
As I read through my old stuff some of it makes me want to write about the stuff I wrote before.. How incredibly self absorbed! :P
I'm currently writing (on paper) some sort of filler for the six years during which I wasn't able to write, which is kinda difficult as my memory is not only coloured by more recent events and possibly somewhat biased (I'm trying to be more factual/rational than emotional about it) but I do have a pretty unreliable long term memory and there are a lot of big holes in it. But I have found that as I write more is coming back to me.
It'll probably be incredibly boring, due to its length.
I dunno, I know a lot of people who have a really short attention span when it comes to reading, and despite what some people tell me, I really don't know that my writing is interesting enough to hold peoples attention for that long, I mean, its somewhat interesting to me because I went through it, but is it interesting to others? I'm having some self worth issues I think :P
It is several handwritten pages already, and I'm not even past the first few weeks.
Although it does include some of my background on before we met for explanations sake.
Its weird writing like that, I mean, its more autobiographical than my usual writing (which is just some kind of mental vomit pouring out through my hands faster than I can think or speak about it), which makes me wonder sometimes if its worth the trouble, I mean, the people who do read this blog, why do you read it? Are you interested in what led up the beginning of the blog? For that matter, are you even interested in the teenage angst stuff I'll be resurrecting from my old website?
Comments would be welcomed on this, a bit of encouragement never goes astray :P
I write for me, but I put it online because I think others might appreciate it.
I wonder if there is a poll gadget I can put up here someplace...
edit: found a poll... use it!
I thought it'd be interesting to post a piece from my old site as like a sample or something..
The first one that caught my eye was a rather odd cutting/suicide type topic but I thought that might be a bit much.. See below for my second choice.
life
Life is odd. Don't deny it, don't argue, it is odd. Face it.
I mean, you live, you experience joy, fear, sadness, love, hate, depression, exuberance, satisfaction, exhaustion, hunger, thirst, a myriad of flavours, textures and colours... Then you die.
I mean, there is nothing stranger than life. Life is odd.
We are born... we can't walk, most of our senses are numbed in some way or another, and possible experience is very limited. As we grow older, our capacity for experience grows, but we are protected by parents or guardians, much like out numbed senses protected us at birth. Then, suddenly, we are thrust out into the world. Its different for everyone. Some people get pushed gently out into a sheltered life, some are booted and land on their head and never quite recover, some run out and trip over. And many variations in between, of course.
We continue to experience, and this is where everything is sharper. Things that hurt, hurt so much more. Things that please us are all the more pleasurable because they happen less often, but are always overshadowed because we learn that pleasure rarely lasts long.
We learn to deal with the harsh world, by numbing our senses and therefore numbing our emotions and our ability to realise something is wrong until its too late to fix it.
Isn't it odd?
Isn't it odd that we start off with numbed senses to protect us while we adjust to the world, and then once we leave natural protection, to cope with life on our own, and then as a defense, we numb our own senses, only in doing so we open ourselves to the possibility of even more pain and suffering, only because we are too blind to see it coming, its stabbed us to a metaphoric death before we've even had a chance to stop it.
I'd rather feel everything, miss nothing, and have quick reflexes... but its so hard.
Life truly is, odd.
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