This is–and it’s strange to say it–my 100th post! It feels kind of odd to celebrate posting 100 things on a blog that’s largely about nothing, but 100 is a milestone, even if the 100 you’re celebrating has largely consisted of puppy posts and various lines of poetry–so I’m going to celebrate anyway!
Now let’s see–in the past year, I’ve reviewed a couple of video games, I’ve written about nostalgia, I’ve shared my opinions on some serious issues, and I’ve written about my job. I’ve claimed, in a way, that I’m not even a writer, I’ve written because I was bored, droned on about the woes of post-college life and…well, some more of that. But as different as some of these posts may have been, as scattered and disparate their subjects, there’s always been a commonality between them I’ve noticed as I read back through the pages, something that keeps them tied together and feeling sort of whole, that thing being: they’re of me. Or about me. Or from me, every one of them, each a representation of a thought I’ve had, an idea I’ve wished to express and an opportunity for me to speak my voice–which was the point of this all along.
When I set out originally to start this blog, I never had a niche in mind. I didn’t want to focus on giving advice to writers, or to artists, or to designers, or homemakers, because that can get sort of dry, and at the end of the day, I just wanted the opportunity to share my thoughts, to express my feelings, to talk about what I wanted to talk about without catering to an audience–though there isn’t anything wrong with that. The fact is, I’ve just never been good at writing that way. I’ve never been good at honing in and speaking to the same topic post after post or telling people that they should listen to me over someone else simply because I have some knowledge of something. Some people are better at writing that way and I admire them for their ability to do that. It takes discipline to offer something new to the game when it seems you’ve exhausted your options, to keep writing when the first couple of topics in mind are posted on your blog–but not everyone can; I sure can’t. That doesn’t mean you can’t write if you want to. It doesn’t mean you can’t start a blog dedicated to nothing and still express your ideas.
I say that, for one, because it’s true, but also because I love seeing the writing of people that I know. So often people who wouldn’t naturally refer to themselves as writers don’t attempt to write. They see writing as the evil through which they are made to complete an essay, the means through which they say thank you on a card after receiving a gift, but as something to express an idea, as something to chronicle their thoughts: no.
I wish people felt differently. I wish people that I knew would do something like this, this being beginning a blog with no end goal in mind, no agenda, just a desire to have their ideas make sense and give voice to their thoughts, to write–because 100 posts in, I’m excited for the ones to come. I’ll be getting married soon, I’ll be starting a new job (more on that later) and whatever it is that I want to talk about, whatever’s on my mind, whatever happens in the world or in my life will likely be logged in here. It doesn’t matter what it is because the purpose of this blog was to get me writing again, and by writing, I’m accomplishing the goal I set forth when I started.
So 100 posts. Woo that’s something, even if this is basically a journal. And 100 posts from now I’ll be doing the same thing, which is probably just writing about nothing.