i will never, never, never, ever call myself boring
i had the working title of "one year of blogging" tucked away for this post. i can pinpoint that, a year ago, i thought my words were boring--and, worse, that i didn't have anything interesting to say. and yet, i had published a rush of six back to back posts on this day, a year ago. i wrote about that momentum almost a week after creating this blog. not much has changed in my reflection, and it's cool that my blog serves as an archive of my thoughts.
still, i sat with an unidentifiable itch for a few months early last year. i published quietly, eager for my friends to see first, sending links via texts as soon as the post was up, asking for a look-see when they had the time. sometimes they would, sometimes not, it depended how busy they were. or, the off chance there's someone who keeps tabs on my blog and messages me out of the blue about my latest post that i hoped they saw before i mentioned it (because i wanted them to see). no worries if not, of course.
and still, i had this pang that hung around like a piece of apple in my teeth, and didn't know what to do with it. i just know it came up when i didn't get recognition within minutes. i'd post on instagram and start seeing "____ liked your post." flash on my phone one, two, three, four times within a few minutes, then tapering off after a few days. why didn't this happen with my posts, even when i linked my blog on instagram? i felt embarrassed when this thought came to mind, each time, my stomach retracting and expanding for the angry bee colony that visits when i sense that my words are going unseen.
i started to post just to post at times, since i felt like it didn't matter, which egregiously contradicted my own blog manifesto. i grew embarrassed at some of these posts of mine, and that embarrassment hindered me between postings. the timing of work and a big move to my current apartment and other busy life events were signs to step back from writing on here so much. i didn't entertain abandoning this all together; instead, i just waited until things settled for me in the "life" front. free time was much more valuable, so i spent it doing things i liked. i got back into music, film, and reading. i started journaling again.
in my effort to nurture my hobbies in spite of 2025's turbulence, i had less time seeking validation from others. taking regularly scheduled social media breaks helped lots, a lot more than i thought. however, what helped me the most was posting what i thought was cringe. if you can believe it, cringe was my biggest writer's block. writing through the cringe reframed my "who will care?" to "who cares?" to be cringe is to be free, after all. and, looking back, too, my posts i posted just to post and "cringeworthy" posts are some of my personal favorite things i've written to date. (they just needed to marinate on my blog, is all.)
so! and here i am, a year later, at a point where i can't confidently call myself a boring person. i don't think a person can actually be boring, anyways. to call yourself boring is to not give yourself credit for being an inexhaustible totality contained in a corporeal suit. (if someone is truly boring, though, then that's just a prophecy self-fulfilled.) whitman said, "i am large. i contain multitudes." for a reason! how can i ever call myself boring when this blog will prove me wrong every time?