Walking out the door today I had an interesting moment of a typical case of deja vu. You know those moments when certain smells, sounds or sensations would remind you of a certain episode from your past? I experienced it this morning when the feel of cooler weather brought me back to the time I started writing my blog. It was in October of 2012, and the weather outside felt exactly the same. This made me think: What does writing this blog really mean to me? Well, it is my consolation, my refuge, my creative outlet. For years I have been trying to figure out what creative, artistic skills or pursuits I had, and I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that while I like to dabble into different activities here and there, I do not possess any distinct talents: I’m not a dancer, I’m not a painter, I’m not an actress, a singer, an entertainer, etc. I do, however, love writing. Writing is something that makes me happy, something that helps me express who I am, something that helps me find the answers to my own issues, as every time I put my thoughts in writing I come to some sort of conclusion at the end.
I don’t remember what exactly pushed me to start a blog, but I do remember that it was a mix of distress, confusion, despair and a spark of excitement that I finally found a way out. How do I know that writing is right for me? It’s simple – because after a year and a half of blogging I still have not lost that spark.
In support of my déjà vu, here’s my very first post, where it all began: