I don’t know what I’m doing. I enjoy writing. I fact, I do it all the time. I’m a terrible speller and my punctuation and grammar is elementary at best, but I write like my life depends on it in my small journal. However, I am hoping to leave the country for two and a half years so I want to get used to typing online so I don’t have to lug around my journal which has a very high potential of getting destroyed, probably by water.
I want to use this blog to document my experience, but also find my voice as a writer. I type and write almost exactly like I speak with less slang. I never took a writing class past high school and I have no idea why my hands start to itch for a pen when I feel any kind of emotion other than mildly pleasant. I’m worried that I won’t use this site or that I will neglect my journal by using this site. I’m worried that I won’t get medical clearance for the job I want and I actually won’t be leaving, rendering this site useless. I’m worried that I will feel alone my entire life and also that I will never get the chance to feel lonely enough. I’m worried that negative male energy and positive male energy don’t exist without each other and I want only one of them. I let these worries pass like clouds and wonder what I will be worried about tomorrow while laughing about what I was worried about yesterday. I’m trying to use less words, Hemingway style. I’m also trying to convey emotion, any style. I write because it feels as good as crying and laughing, so this will just be about my life. My mother always told me not to use “I” so much. I obviously have not listened.
This could be the beginning, or it could be nothing.