Do you remember when you were a kid, and you did an art project? Regardless of how awkward it looked, your mother would look at it and tell you that it was the best picture she had ever seen. It didn't matter if your horse looked more like a shoe, or if your house looked like a monkey, your art was good. As a kid, you could draw anything you wanted, you could fearlessly create, knowing that your mom would love it.
I still love to be creative, but one can't get away with shoe's for horses and get someone to tell you your picture looks good at the age of 23. You see, I love to sing and write lyrics, but none are "good enough" to be more than mere journal entries and my voice is causes those sitting near me in church on Sundays to scoot a bit further away. I love to paint and create art, but it ends up looking like an elementary kid did it, and is not something that should be hung anywhere except maybe my mom's fridge. I love to be crafty and do things like scrapbook, quilt, sew, etc, yet each of these endeavors never measures up to the grand image I have in my head of what they are "supposed" to look like. Most of all, I love to write. I have secret dreams of becoming an author. Being given enough inspiration to write something that will be meaningful to people. Something that would make a difference, something that would help others in some way. I feel like I can express myself through words, it is a talent however I feel I do not have. I have always had a journal/diary/blog and been able to write as much as I wanted. Most of my blog posts over the years have been private because I either was uncomfortable sharing what was going on with others, or I feared that my blogging material was "inadequate" or would be a boar for my friends to read.
I have had this blog for almost 5 years now and publicly haven't done much with it. Before this I had a livejournal, a xanga and other online blogy type things where I would share my thoughts and experiences in life with friends, and they would comment on them. At some point, I stopped because people either stopped reading/commenting/caring about what I wrote. I mean I'm only 23, when I write about my life, only those close to me would care. When I write about my experiences, I am not eloquent enough to have followers, I used to feel that if no one was reading it, there was no point to putting it out there. Then something happened. I don't know if it was a sudden or a gradual realization, but all of the sudden I realized that my blog was for me. It didn't matter if no one read it, it was for me. It was for me to express myself however "good" or "bad" the blog was by other's standards doesn't matter. This blog is my outlet to be creative, something I love to do, something that gives me joy.
Blogging changed me, it made me realize that doing your best and putting it out for the world to see is something for me. It is my outlet, and my canvas to make whatever I want happen. Making this realization in blogging has helped open my eyes to other things that I feel I'm "not good at" and to not be scared of them. It has helped give me back the fearless attitude I had as a kid, and I'm better for it.
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