You know how some people write to express their innermost feelings? To articulate their turmoil and anguish, in the hope that writing will lead to some form of expurgation, and hopefully, redemption? Freedom from drama. Drama in freedom. Cathartic cataclysms. Earthshaking rakenrol. Liberation, libog, let it be, let it be, let it be.
I write because — gasp! — I want to be read. I get a kick out of it. A delicious, I’m-so-fucking-full-of-myself kick. Heehee. Maybe it’s sacrilegious for other people, those who wait for their Muse under the moonlight and write from the sacred spaces of their soul, that I actually find myself thinking: “Oh no, I better write something serious and analytical fast. Wrote two cheesy blogs in a row. They might think I’m shallow.” Then, I click the “blog hits” button two hours after: elated if there are new hits and better yet, new comments; worried if there aren’t. I am the complete opposite of the friend I was in a table with just last night, who told me that when she blogs, she just lets the words tumble free from within, unconscious of the reader — breathing deeply and freely and joyously in her parcel of internet real estate. Three cheers for that. She writes as a form of release. I as a form of… exhibitionism.
So yeah, sue me for being more Master Showman than Anne Frank. Laugh. Cackle. Chortle. I dont care if this says something about the depth and breadth of my real and documented achievements, but I AM tickled pink by the fact that I have — drumroll please — reached my 1000th bloghit a few hours ago, less than two months after my very first entry (entitled “My Very First Entry..”)
I don’t even remember what prodded me to open a blog. I think maybe it was that one afternoon when my friend Jonas, administrator of the beautiful Lagablab website, was showing off his extraordinary technical blog-administration acumen while rolling his eyes at my incompetence (HTML, what?!) Deciding that I havent done anything for the first time in a long, long while, I got me a wordpress account, typed merrily away. And never stopped again.
Twenty or so posts and 1000 bloghits (yuk, ang kulit, paulit-ulit) after, I’m totally hooked. I’ve been in love with writing since forever, and I’ve been an audience-whore for almost as long, and since I don’t really see book publishers making a beeline to my door, blogging is the delicious next-best-thing. Sometimes — and this is the first time Ill be making this confession — I actually pass up on gimiks or go home early from one so I can write a blog entry. How dorky.
And of course, accompanying my new blogwriting hobby is its logical partner: blog-hopping. I’ve come across blogs of total strangers (many not even from this country) that just take my breath away. I am very, very easily intimidated in the face of honest-to-goodness good writing, especially from unpublished writers my age. Also, because I nurse fantasies of being a domestic cooking goddess, I like food blogs with recipes and mouth-watering pictures. Sometimes, I do read the political blogs too, particularly those belonging to individuals of a different ideological persuasion. But it tires me so, and I have neither the stamina nor the patience to engage in blog wars with frothing-in-the-mouth activists. Even worse than that, however, to my mind, is the incoherent, im-a-poet-this-is-my-art-who-fucking-cares-if-noone-gets-it blog. “naked head over heels/crack jaw in hollywood/sack of bones and wedding leftovers/ wet thighs coughing like an old man/i listen to the river flow with abandon/and fly to the laughter of death where mermaids weep…. spastic/ cosmic/orgasmic/ orocan plastic na walastic.” You lost me at hello.
Seriously though, I’ve written more in the past two months than I have in four years of law school. That ought to be a good thing, I suppose. So ya know, Ill be sticking around this neck of the cyber-woods for while.
Mwah! Big hug to you all. Stay interested in me. Hahahaha.