A 22-year-old experiential education facilitator by-way-of art school, employee of an Ivy, vegetarian, procrastinator, and rock-climbing wilderness first responder living in picturesque rural New Jersey. She's holding her breath as she tests her clumsy legs post-college.
So, the blogging "voice" doesn't exist. Or rather, we write, we read, or "see" words, instead of hearing them. The author uses the word "telephonic," the longing for something that is as ephemeral as the powerful feelings we have sometimes. But, text, html, blog survives voice, body, phase.
I'm failing at blogging every day. I wait till night, when I've got a whole day to blog about, but do I really want to write about the day I just spent? How I didn't finish the dishes, how I read and read but couldn't put fingers to keyboard. I've committed myself to this independent study, but I've got to admit that I've comitted myself to this for me, not for my instructor. This is a selfish desire to be introspective for myself, and put it out there for all to read.
It is actually the loss of selfishness, I think, that led to the end of my relationship with Justin. I became obsessed with HIS life, HIS existence, HIS work, not my own. This isn't a tendency far from my lineage. My mom is a Sacrificer. She Sacrifices. And that's noble and good but at some point there's nobody else there but you, and you've got to be happy with yourself when you are on your own.
Right, so, back to "finding my voice." Stop looking for instant identity. It will take a little while for my personality to come out in this space, and that's to be expected. Everything I've read in "You've Got Blog" has taught me that. So, tonight I'm going to keep writing till I'm near-empty.