I've played around with blogging for a little over four years now. Over these last few years my blog has changed its name, its focus, and of course its design.
I remember I wanted to try my hand at blogging because my love for writing wasn't able to be nurtured at my 9-5. I wanted to be able to embrace my deepest passion (and quite possibly the only thing I'm rather good at), whether others would stumble upon my little corner of the Internet or not. I never really cared about the views, I just wanted to write.
My uncle was a writer for one of the city's major newspapers. From a young age I looked up to him -- he wrote for the entertainment section of the paper and had the privilege of meeting and interviewing some very notable singers, songwriters, and authors during his career. When we still had the paper delivered to our house I would jump to the entertainment section and look for his latest piece. I must admit it was pretty cool seeing his name in the paper, reading his words, and knowing it was his work. He was -- and still is -- an incredibly talented writer. Although if he were to read this I'm sure he would shy at the compliment.
As a kid I always kept a journal. I remember watching Harriet the Spy and wanting to be like her. In first grade I had my mom buy me a black and white composition notebook just like Harriet. I even tried to copy her handwriting (remember how she wrote her "y's"?). I wrote down everything I could about anything I could. In high school I took every writing course that was offered and jumped at the opportunity to join the school newspaper. Senior year I became co-editor-in-chief. Later that year I received a scholarship to one of the country's top journalism schools. I graduated with the school's only journalism award. Although I (somewhat regretfully) denied the journalism scholarship, I still decided to pursue journalism at another university. It wasn't until the end of my freshman year of college that I decided to not only switch schools, but switch majors as well. My future writing plans were over.
Earlier this summer I was cleaning out my closet -- going through storage bins, shoeboxes of photographs -- and I stumbled across my memory box. This isn't your average memory box. It's a giant green rubbermaid container filled with sentimental pieces from my childhood. A piece of my own history. Guess what took up most of the box? My journals. Thinking about it now I can't even tell you how many notebooks are in there. I started thumbing through the pages of my journals and couldn't help but be overcome with emotion. Back then I wrote just to write. I realized, sadly, that I don't do that anymore.
As I sit here writing this piece, I can't help but think about how a part of me has been missing for quite some time. This blog has had its small share of personal posts where I have talked about my struggles with depression, anxiety, and just the peaks and valleys of life in general. However, the main focus of this blog has been directed at beauty, fashion, and other "safe" topics.
To my left, on the second shelf from the bottom of my bookshelf to be exact, sits a little leather bound book. An old key from 1867 attached to a leather strap helps secure the book closed. Inside its leather dust jacket is a published text of my own work: the first short story I wrote in my high school creative writing class. I remember my teacher telling me that it had the potential to be published. The further I got from my journalism career, the further I got from ever finalizing the story, and the further I got from ever attempting to get it published.
Until he did it for me.
I know it's not "formally" published, but a few years ago he took the time to have my story printed and bound into the most special gift I have ever received. I definitely didn't deserve it at the time but he did it anyway. That little leather bound book to my left is one of my most cherished possessions that sits in this room. There is no gift I will ever receive that means what that little leather bound book and that antiquated key means to me. Right now it's staring at me, begging me to return to what I love.
Of course I will continue to blog about makeup, skincare, and hair styles. Those are things that interest me, things that I know a lot about, and things that I like to share with others. But with this fresh perspective (and help from my little leather bound book), I feel determined and ready to return to more personal pieces of writing...
...Whether that be here, or perhaps in a personal journal that will someday be added to my green rubbermaid memory box.
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