There were many times over these past few weeks when I realized I hadn’t written anything in quite some time. I suppose being too wrapped up in my own personal affairs and “busy” lifestyle had me give up on writing for a while. Yet, each period in which I have ceased this activity has been filled with mostly bleak days without that wonderful satisfaction one gets after completing a paragraph, or finishing a lengthy diatribe. The rhythm of sentences, commas, semicolons, and all other elements of grammar/punctuation—not to discount the personal favorite em dash—had become a pleasant memory, but were no longer part of the daily routine. For the first time in my life, I began to understand what it felt like to come home from work too tired to write about the miserable day. I had forgotten how cathartic this medium truly is; writing seems to be as human as eating, breathing, sleeping, and all other biological functions. I’m not sure if this is true for all people, but I’ve found that writing allows be to get a better perspective on just about everything. And yes, this is just about the most pretentious essay ever written on this tumblr. It’s a smug satisfaction I suppose.
Even thought I have probably damaged my credibility with the flowery and highly idealistic prose above, I still believe that writing—in the simplest sense—helps us get over the fact that life often sucks. Words provide a direct channel for us to communicate our emotions. The written word allows this process to be even more intimate and direct. At the moment, I am in the midst of many things, some troubling, and some unbelievably wonderful. The challenge seems to be balancing these two sets of things out; thinking about what sucks when you should be having fun does not fare well. So, with this short message, I return to this tumblr once more for an ongoing experiment: A quest to see whether or not writing can actually improve one’s daily life. Natalie Goldberg seems to think so…
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