Thursday, January 21, 2016

chasing shadows

February 26th can't come soon enough. Chasing shadows is the third track released off Santigold's upcoming album. Each song so far has spoken to me in a way that makes me feel less alone in the world. I think everything about her is so cool. I can't stop listening to this song.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

how many books can i read in 2016

One so far. Which I finished on Saturday night, because I'm wild like that. It was the second volume in a series of three memoirs written by Catherine Gildiner. It's safe to assume that if I'm plowing through a book on a Saturday night that I'm completely enthralled. I love her writing style and the way she thinks.

And now I'm sixty pages into my second novel of 2016, which had me thinking on the way in to work today, how many books can I read this year. A lot. I want to read a lot of books and I'm going to track them here.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

blog log

There is something about the thought of writing something for people to read that makes me not want to write. The thought of someone I know, or don't know reading my words, and the fear of judgement, turns me into a bit of a cookie cutter. A persona and not a person. I know there is a part of me in these posts but I think it's mostly between the lines.

But the thing is I've never committed anything to writing without thinking 'but what if someone were to read this' - not one letter to myself, one journal entry, one email has been completely honest. I've censored myself so much that I am not even sure which thoughts are my own. I guess that sounds extreme but there is truth to it.

Maybe instead of a flowery version of my thoughts I should try to write fiction. Maybe in that mindset, I would be less afraid of judgement and free to tell things as I see them. I love reading fiction and memoirs. I love other peoples thoughts. I am much more comfortable with them than my own.

When I read a post I've written which includes some touching thing that happened on a subway ride, I feel almost uncomfortable. I can remember the moment, but my writing never seems to truly translate the feelings I had at the time. In an attempt to convey connection and meaning, I think I end up sounding like a washed up self help writer. A cheesy motivational poster. I think I stopped writing because maybe I'm a bad writer.

It's the beginning of a new year and without sounding too phony, I am going to try to be more honest, with my writing and with myself.

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