Interesting. I start every blog thinking how long it has been since I last updated my blog. On this occasion though, I'm thinking about how at the beginning of the creation of a new post, I think about how long it has been since I last wrote on this blog that is rapidly declining in my list of priorities. A fall I wish to arrest immediately.
As a (now) sporadic writer, I cannot really judge how well I write but I certainly can look through my previous chronicles to compare my pieces of yore. It is to my alarm that I my writing has turned to mundane and disinteresting even to myself. I don't know who shares that opinion, and I hope several people do as it would be embarrassing to a degree if I were unable to judge my own words.
Then again, the reason I began to write my blog was not because I thought I was good at writing. Two main factors account for that, the fact that my sister has her own blog, and the fact that it had been oft repeated to me that I write well. I continued, and I still continue, because I like writing. It is of no small significance that on days I feel particularly breezy, perhaps after long conversations with an old friend or a sibling, or just returning home and hugging parents, that I suddenly feel the to write.
It cuts both way in fact. If I do force myself to write, despite whatever writeresque struggles with word and sentence structures, I feel much the better for it, braced and invigorated. A certain serenity. It is something like a mathematical double implication, serenity implies writing implies serenity. A particularly benevolent cycle in fact, but one exactly in contrast to a vicious cycle, is hard to get into and easy to exit. Weeds grow without effort, roses need to be tended.
Did I take up pen to write and ramble about writing and what I think when I begin to write? No. Though I'm not quite sure why I wanted to write. Am I subconsciously at peace and happy. Probably not; a large workload and miserable courses have comprehensively eliminated that possibility. Do I intend to try and feel subconsciously at peace and happy. I guess.
You see, writing doesn't feel the same again. The serenity post-writing that I spoke about previously is from the past. It has been a long time since it has felt the same. It is, however, a feeling I wish to rediscover. And I write this rather directionless peace in the hope that relentless and continuous writing will help rediscover the feeling.