No, the birds are not ‘got rid of’. No, I’m not in a mood to explain why. No, this isn’t going to be a very coherent post. No, I’m not going to stop here and just come back when I have something more cheery and constructive to say.
It’s my blog after all. I get to type what I want in it and while, yes, I would mourn the loss of a reader (considering the numbers hanging around here), if you’re going to be put off by the odd angst-y post, then well, that’s your choice to make, is it not?
A friend asked me the other day what the point of blogging was. Why put out all your thoughts, ideas, opinions and feelings for the whole world to scrutinize? For a moment, I thought she had me. I couldn’t really think of any reason why I was blogging. Except that I simply wanted to.
Sure, if P2 was dedicated to a specific cause, it would make things easier and also more noble. But as things are, the only cause this site has is to keep me sane. That’s probably why it’s lasted so long 🙂
Naturally, I do hope that what I share here will someday help change someone’s life for the better. More than one someone would be great too. But that’s not guaranteed, it’s simply a wish. It’s also possible that if this were ever to happen, it would be without my ever knowing OR even after I am beyond knowing – in the sense of this world.
So I blog for the same reason thousands of others do – a selfish one. Does that make me a blogger-of-a-common-class? Perhaps. Does that bother me? A little, when I stop to think about it. Will it put a stop or a pause to my blogging? Don’t think so.
People do different things to sort themselves out. Some people mediatate, others got for a jog, some will play music, others with draw and splash about with paint, some take drugs, others throw things around a room and those with enough money go talk to shrinks.
And some, like me, simply sit down and write. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t written one word to indicate what the real problem is that is bothering me. It doesn’t matter that when I stop writing this and post it up, that problem won’t be solved.
It only matters that I started with a clean, space of pure white and I drew on it these funny symbols, watching each letter appear one after the other and magically make words that suddenly made sense the moment I placed the last letter in their combination.
It only matters that when I put a fullstop at the end of my sentences, I have created them out of thin air, taking the invisible, intangible, soundless thoughts in my mind and birthing them into the world of the tangible, the audible and the visual. I can hide what I want, I can show what I want, and when needed I can make people see what I want them to.
And that is the most calming and inspirational experience ever. Reaching out and touching others, without any physical contact.
Language is more fashion than science, and matters of usage, spelling and pronunciation tend to wander around like hemlines. -Bill Bryson, author (1951- )