Change does not come easily. Even so, sometimes you nonchalantly found that you've changed towards something you did not expect in the first place because of small habits you've built up along the years without realizing it. It seems like the more you're *trying* to change, the more difficult it is to do. Just like how you've gained weight during the pandemic without being aware that you've been ordering more takeouts, while the journey towards weight loss seems like a Herculean challenge to keep up.
I've been taking a look at my blog posts along the year. I expressed my concern regarding the decision to create one blog post per day in some previous posts, wondering if the quantity of my writing will actually help me to become a good writer, after all. My partner advised for me to just keep writing, and told me to take a look at my past pieces, and I would see how much I have improved.
The verdict? I missed the way I could write.
I feel like along the years my brain has changed its way without me realizing it. I've become somehow more... normal, more sane, and I lost my touch of melancholy. I feel like I can no longer write in ambiguous metaphor and puzzling remarks. No more emo made-up conversations between me and a fictional significant other, no more insane subplot about prescribed a crazy medicine, no more bloody implied murder through passage of regrets.
I've become boring that I can no longer carry a narrative. My sentences do not hold the same power it used to back then.
After a brief moment of sorrow and heavy heart, it sinks to me that I might have changed. Along the years, I've been a different person without me realizing it. And as a changed person, I don't know if this blog is still relevant to my development. [Hold up. I'm not saying that I'm going to abandon this blog]
What I'm saying is, past Tay might have used this blog to express the unsaid, to release the pent-up anger and imagination, to use this blog as a catharsis towards sanity. But present Tay isn't past Tay, and what previously worked might not doing it the same way now. Now that present Tay has resorted to other means of coping mechanism that past Tay did not give way to, she is aware that she might not have written as beautifully as she previously could.
This blog is reduced to just a honest rant without the roundabout metaphorical journey. You now know that I hate QR code menus without me making a dramatic fuss about its black-and-white grid, without comparing it to gliding your finger through spiky concrete. It's just opinion piece now, ready to be submitted to mediakonsumen.com. It's new, it's honest, but it's not what past Tay would have wanted, and neither it's something present Tay is awfully proud of.
So the question still remains: Does writing everyday guarantee my improvement or it would just hinder it due to the "quantity-over-quality" pitfall? Is this blog still relevant, considering my current state?
I'm sure there is no clear-cut answer for that, since it's a journey I have to undergo to internalize.
But I think the fact that I'm beginning to question it, in itself, is already a step forward. That thought in itself is already a byproduct of me attempting to write every single day, so perhaps my piece on Tuesday is an ugly boot for me to leap towards a masterpiece Thursday. Perhaps I'm just getting accustomed again after a long while of blog hiatus.
If I do wonder how relevant my blog is towards my present self, maybe I do need to break down what part of it makes me hesitate, and I can use it for another material. Maybe the relevancy isn't so much about the writing itself, but how much the idea fit into a writing. If I have an honest piece that I'm not particularly too fond of, perhaps I can use it as a video review script or something. Doesn't mean that I have to stop writing, but maybe some of my ideas are better fit for stuff other than writing.
I wrote this at 10 AM, first thing in the morning as soon as I woke up. Brimming with ideas and fuzzy with extra caffeine I took yesterday. So perhaps the writing-everyday prompt is not such a bad idea after all.
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