I just read Angela's Ashes, a memoir by Frank McCourt. Wonderful book, by the way, you should read it if you get a chance.
A recurring line sticks out to me from the book, time and time again. Young Frank McCourt is describing his Uncle Pa Keating, and he says, "he doesn't give a fiddler's fart what the world says and that's the way I'd like to be myself." I agree. Why should I give a fiddler's fart what the world says, right? Frank, that's the way I'd like to be myself, too.
I haven't blogged in a while. Granted, a couple posts here and there, but not nearly as consistently as I used to blog. Why? I don't know exactly. Somewhere I stopped feeling like myself, and therefore, stopped writing. Although writing has always been part of me, when I feel like part of me is lost, why write? What should I write about? And then all the negative thoughts seep their way into my brain. Why bother blogging; why bother writing; why bother doing anything? There are a bajillion and one blogs out there about peoples daily lives, about mommyhood, about Catholicism, about paper crafts, about writing in general... what am I? Just one more pin drop in the world wide web? Why would anyone want to read what I have to say? So, I gave up for a while. In giving up, I strayed further and further away from who I am. I lost my sense of identity.
Who are you? Marlana Weber. What do you do? No clue.
Someone asked me recently what I do for fun? My jaw opened slightly, the words started to come out, but stopped in the throat. My mouth hung open, probably long enough for a bug to creep in, my eyes glazed over in confusion... are you picturing a deer in the headlights? Yep, hit me with the truck, that was my reaction. There's Marlana, roadkill. It got me thinking over the next several weeks... where did I go? I can tell you what I am to everyone else, and what I do for everyone else, but could not say a single word about myself. I think we all get stuck in a rut, and here I am trying to find my way out.
This all leads me back to the same conundrum... do I want to blog about myself, about my life, and let you all in on a little piece of my mind while I'm trying to find my personality again? Well, writing is my outlet. It always has been, and I know it always will be. When I push it away, I push myself away. If I start writing, I discover a little bit of myself. Make my number bajillion-and-two to the list of blogs. I'm doing this for me. One day, I can look back and say, "Oh that's right, that's what I was up to in Winter 2010... or Spring 2011." However, if you have been stuck in a rut before, if you like to peak inside what is going through someone's mind, or curious about some daily musings, you may want to stick around.
You can read, you can follow, or neither. Do I care if I have zero followers, zero readers, or 100, 200, 1,000 readers and followers? My response...
I don't give a fiddler's fart.