To say that my neglect for this blog has been abysmal would be a great, great understatement.
I have realized that in the past, having a blog has been something I’ve really enjoyed. The reason for that? I’m not quite sure. It’s not like I ever had some booming success with my blog. I didn’t have much interaction, other than an occasional comment here and there. In high school it was a venue for me to share funny stories, post pictures, and scribe some vague, angsty thoughts that brewed from hormones and high school.
Since I began college, it hasn’t been as consistent, and I almost feel I’ve given into an idea that what I’m writing isn’t marketable. Who really cares what I’m saying? What is my niche? Isn’t this just like all of the other zoobie blogs that is relatively unimpressive and unoriginal?
Maybe. But, I guess those aren’t the reasons I blogged for in the past, and I may have lost sight of that.
Even though in school it’s awful and stressful and time consuming, writing is something I actually enjoy. I have lists and lists of things that I could do better in my writing when it comes to research papers and press releases. However, Having a space where I can just express ideas, tell stories, and record experiences is healthy and helpful for me.
There’ll be typos. Fragmented sentences for sure. But, considering the thought to start blogging again has prompted my mind consistently for the past few months, I guess I’ll give in.
To the two people (if that) that may stumble across this, WELCOME. This is a safe place.
When I was little, I remember wanting desperately to be sick. Not because I wanted to actually be physically ill, but because I wanted to stay home from school, have food made for me, lounge around in my pajamas and watch movies all day.
When you’re sick in college you can stay home from school, eat yesterday’s leftover PastaRoni, lounge around in pajamas and watch movies all day… But there’s just major guilt and stress on your shoulders.
You either stay home and wallow in your guilt-ridden self pity, or brave your classes with the plague. Today, I did the latter.
What do I have to show for it? Lazy notes, and tired eyes.
And I still came home, instantly changed into pajamas, cooked some ramen, and watched two movies in a row.
Nostalgia seems to be the only word that even comes close to describing the state of being I find myself in some nights. It’s neither bad nor good, and that’s what’s so strange about it. Nostalgia is supposed to mean something along the lines of “pleasant remembrances,” but that’s what’s so intriguing about it; you recall happy or joyful memories or experiences, or look to good things you desire, and in some ways that makes you feel a longing for those things. It’s almost a sense of wistfulness about you because of the truly remarkable things in this life, and the two emotions seem to clash in a way. In my mind, that’s what the word “nostalgia” is describing–that meeting point between two conflicting emotions.
Sometimes it’s more the happy remembrances, and sometimes it’s more the insatiable longings for them, but it’s always a combination.
Nostalgia is beautiful. It’s something I’ve learned to appreciate because it makes me feel very alive, in a sense. The fact that I have the capability to feel such a complex emotion really fascinates me and puts how incredible my human mind is and, as a result, how blessed I am in perspective. Human beings are peculiar creatures, and I’m so glad that I’m one of them.