I think it's time.
I've never stopped writing- don't get me wrong. But it's time to close up shop here. It's been a weird four years, that's for sure. I found myself disliking when people mentioned my blog to me instead of enjoying it. I found myself comparing my blog to others- which is enormously stupid. I don't want to post publicly anymore, I just don't have the drive to anymore.
I'll leave it up- I want to be able to peruse my time in England, as I documented it fully and without reserve. I want to look at how my writing has changed, and what I was like through my college years. Four years is a long time to blog (even though in my last year I have only posted 8 times).
Here's something I haven't shared on here yet- I'm applying to grad school, MFA in Creative Writing.
I have a couple places in mind. Knowing me, I'll move to a new city and be bored, so I'll pick this back up. But for the last year I'm in Minnesota, I'll leave this blog how it is. Dusty, neglected and nostalgic.
One more thing: I'm working on a real-life novel. I have no idea when I'll finish, but when I do, I'll let you guys know.
Goodbye, it was nice sharing a bit of my brain with you all. Maybe I'll see you in a year, maybe never again. I loved every comment you left, and every piece of advice you shared.
There is something special about blogging. I post, with all the intentions of what the words mean and the stories behind them. But you don't. You don't know the whole story or the whole background. So you have to piece together who I am as a person, bit by bit. There are many women who I feel I "know" through their blogs. I know their kids, where they live, who they date. But I don't know them behind the words. I don't know what their voices sound like, or if they laugh with a weird guff-fa. All I see are the words in front of me, and what they choose to give. So I gave my words to you, dear readers. I didn't give you everything- I still have bits and pieces that are hidden from the public eye. But I gave you my words, and I'm thankful that you received them.
Words are powerful. Spoken words can be twisted and mangled, but written words are powerful in that they are permanent. They exist forever in their typo-ed form, black and white, concrete in our universe. Don't forget that. As print flits away and technology stays, people forget that writing is still an art. What I do, is art. I create and make mistakes and write really shitty stories. But I try again, and it always comes out different. Art is fluid, while words are frozen, the icy lake who, when spring comes, will melt on its own time, finally giving way to the fishers and the boaters.
I love to write, and I hope you enjoyed my writing. Below is a quote from the House on Mango Street, a book that literally changed my life. I got it as a reading assignment in middle school. And when I read it, it spoke to me. The words that Sandra Cisneros wrote paved the way to where I am now. Enjoy.
"They are the only ones who understand me. I am the only one who
understands them. Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like
mine. Four who do not belong here but are here. Four raggedy excuses planted
by the city. From our room we can hear them, but Nenny just sleeps and doesn’t
appreciate these things.
Their strength is their secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the
ground. They grow up and they grow down and grab the earth between their
hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is
how they keep.
Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all droop like tulips in a glass,
each with their arms around the other. Keep, keep, keep, trees say when I sleep.
When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing
against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to
look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do
not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be."