The idea to start a blog came from talking to my boyfriend the other day about how I like blogging. I don't really expect people to read this. I'm not sure that I'm even writing it for other people to read (ironic since its being posted on the Internet), but I think that writing not only helps me get my thoughts out but also gives other people a chance to get to know me.
Today I started to think about how much a full time job really drains you. I hate coming home after a day's work and realizing that my day is pretty much almost over. There is no time to do anything. Ironically enough, I'm spending my after-work hours, now, writing this (sorta) pointless blog post.
I want to write. Today, I was listening to Disney music in the car, and I thought about how much I love the story of the Beauty and the Beast. I'd love to write an adaptation of that story. And I have another one in mind. I'm also supposed to edit a ton of short stories I worked on during the school year, but who has time?! Not me, obviously. Carlson is going to expect them done. Blah.
I wish writing meant something to people nowadays. There is so many forms of putting out written word nowadays that it almost doesn't mean anything to people. For instance, you post a blog post on the Internet amidst the other millions of blog posts, and what significance is it? Not much. You publish a book, even, among the millions of other books that have been published, probably 1% of them containing the same plot or purpose even. What significance is it? Not much. In the whole scheme of things, anyway.
Then why do I write? What is the significance of my writing? Not much. And I know that, and I'm okay with that. But I write anyway, hoping that I'm wrong.
I guess that is why I write this blog today. Maybe it'll be significant someday, to someone, somehow.
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