Thoughts, from the ego and the soul.

I love reading blogs, on Xanga or otherwise, where people openly and freely express themselves to us -- us, the silent readers, compassionate supporters, obsessive lurkers, complete strangers.



I have been blogging for years now, and my entries have, for the most part, always been quite personal in nature. No sir, no material written for and addressed to the masses here -- no fairly general topic with a strategically placed discussion question at the end of every entry. Although, I am still not quite sure why, my readership (or in a few cases, stalkership would probably be a more appropriate term) became slightly, unbearably overwhelming at certain times in the past -- and when this happened, I'd find ways to be privately public as much as possible, which usually meant closing up shop, and jumping ship.

Like so many of you probably do, I revisit these former journals of yesteryears -- and each and every single time, I find it to be such an outworldly experience for me, to read something I've written so long ago, yet don't recognize as my own voice anymore. I mean, I can most certainly feel the intensity -- the rawness and the realness -- of my emotions and frustrations then... although in the now, in the present moment, I cannot, for the life of me, recall exactly why I was so upset; why those situations were even deserving of a mention that spanned several paragraphs long.

"What a little drama queen," I think to myself.

"Why didn't anyone call me out on being such a brat?" I chuckle.

I laugh. I mutter under my breath at how idiotic and neurotic I was (and, admittedly, still am). I cringe. I am embarrassed, sometimes to the point of pure and utter mortification. I try to come up with excuses, reasons validating my actions and reactions at the time. I justify my behaviors with long-winded, inner monologue. And then, as I sit there, reading, and re-reading, I am also tempted, so tempted, to highlight and delete; to edit and erase. And for what? For who? Who am I trying to alter written history for? No one. And so I keep on writing, keep on blogging. Because the truth is, I am still growing, learning, making mistakes, progressing. And I would not have been able to do so without the luxury of recorded hindsight.



"Bloggers are narcissistic", I recently read and heard.

I'd beg to differ. Or at least, I'd like to argue that the majority of us aren't.

Narcissists are, at the core, egoists. And egoists, at their most pathetic, are vain, conceited, selfish, usually incredibly indifferent and apathetic to any other person or cause but themselves and their own needs and desires. In short, they do not give a shit, about you or me or anything that falls outside of their own little world. They are not capable of doing so. They are not capable of truly, genuinely, caring, for the sake of caring itself. But that's besides the point.

Because the point is, the blogging community is, for the most part, anything but vain, conceited, selfish, indifferent, and apathetic. In your times of struggle, we are here to cheer you up. When you are debating on whether or not to stay with him, we are here to offer you our advice. When you just need somewhere to vent, to ramble, to write -- we are here.

Bloggers? Narcissists? Maybe just a little. But most of all, I believe that bloggers are creators -- more than anything, we are artists, in search of other similar creative minds, crafted after our own hearts. All of us want to reach out and share something. Our entries are made up of our thoughts, and our thoughts are transformed into words, and those words -- those wonderful words -- they all come together to recreate a unique perspective, a tragic secret, a painful memory, a beautiful retelling, molded by none other than the bloggers themselves, who pick and choose each word and sentence ever so carefully, weaving and bringing it all together into one, final story. Because, really, who in the world doesn't like stories? Stories speaking of the human experience. Stories assuring us that, no, you are not alone, because I have once gone through your situation, and I turned out okay. This, too, shall pass. And you, too, will be okay.

So thank you for sharing your stories -- of the mundane, the failures, the heartbreaking, the achievements, the disappointments, the disasters. Thank you for sharing your relationship tips, your cooking recipes, your discovery of beautiful things and your wonderful travels. Thank you, always, for your amazing finds of all kinds.

Thank you, from one blogger's ego and soul, to another.