I guess most of you have missed my very first post. I guess I have been telling the very same story about how I started blogging but I always forget to mention that my very first post was to welcome whoever comes across my little space on the cyberspace into my world. From day one it was about me and till now as I am writing the 216th post it is still about me. About my very tight circle that’s formed of many other circles. It is about how I see the world from the very little window I chose to open onto it.
Along comes the question, why a public blog if whatever I am to write isn’t about the public but about myself? I guess my answer will be that I am just like thousands of people who really believe that their ranting is worth the time, the time spent writing it and the time spent reading it. If it doesn’t really worth we wouldn’t have that amazing world of the blogosphere and we wouldn’t have personal diaries on the best sellers. I might not be talented but in my brother’s words who eventually caved to my right to write “even those who can’t write and has nothing to say do it, so keep doing it you are not worse than them”.
Those who knew the little Shimaa at school would have known that she had written short stories, trials to novels, essays and even poetry. Those who knew this little Shimaa knew that her friends and teachers used to call her Socrates because she was the best at debates. Those who knew that girl must have known that she has been writing on a hope that one day she would become a writer, someone who can always add another angle to view a very old thing.
Those who know this Shimaa know that she is keeping the essay that won her the prize on the district competition because it is the only living proof of that dream. Those who know this Shimaa know that she knows that dreams aren’t always meant to become true but even if they were meant only to be dreams we should never stop enjoying them. Only those who know the little girl and the almost 30 years old version of Shimaa know that even she neither has the talent nor the quality thinking she will always keep a scrap of paper at hand because for her the whole world is folded in that scrap.
For me blogging was unfolding that scrap and unleashing the dream. I am writing and I am being read. I am even having instant feedback. Something that I bet Shakespeare would have envied me for.
This very feedback was the reason for changes in the pattern of my writings. It is different to write for yourself than writing knowing that certain people would read. The very same reason those who know me know why I have always chickened out of taking my dream out of the secret drawer. My little scraps of paper have always been the only thing I really did for myself. Having others judging it endangers the whole process of communication between me, myself and the world. So knowing that there is audience who would judge me I started keeping things off and I started looking for more value to add to my nonsense. And as I started doing so I started losing focus. As I opted to impress I forgot my aim. I forgot that it has always been about me and that it is me who only matter. I forgot that dreams are meant to be enjoyed. I forgot that if I was to have audience in the first place it was because I was honestly speaking of myself. It was because I needed to scream certain ideas that have been echoing for long in my head.
I forgot that I didn’t create this blog to entertain the public. I created this blog because certain people push me to certain limits and I have to pour my pain and ideas out else I will explode. I created this blog on the belief that someone out there will hear me screaming.
I can’t believe that I was that close of blowing up the last pleasure I have in this life. I can’t believe that I was that close of being muted forever searching for something deep!!