Quavering Butterfly
Writing to an audience can be a double-edged sword. On one hand, knowing that you have an audience becomes a flattering experience; knowing that people deem your thoughts to be worthy of reading, entertaining, thought-provoking, or something that they can relate to and work off.When people invest in you, they often contribute as well as take something away with them. It can merely be a contribution of time, understanding, or sometimes, an attempt to connect. They become 'involved' in a sense and react to what is being written, felt and examined.
Writing for an audience can also be detrimental, when the purpose of writing is as a personal sounding board. It is sometimes hard to distinguish between writing for yourself, and writing for others. When we write about personal matters, very often we wish to keep them personal. They are things that you don't want other people to know about. They are internal murmurings that you are trying to sort out on your own.
Yet the proliferation of personal blogs, and the existence of a blog like this one, provides an interesting twist on this writing phenomenon. To write anonymously gives a sense of liberation and freedom. I could be anyone or no one. A face in a crowded sea of people. But as people invest in what you write, you become someone. And sometimes you find yourself giving context, exposition and elaboration. Things that you don't necessarily need to do when writing specifically for yourself.
When you explicitly write for yourself, explanations are not necessary. Jumps of logic, not required. Justification becomes a useleess tool. But once you become aware that other people may read what you write, you can become a little more aware. You try to lessen the confusion in your writing, and try to address your thoughts in some semblance of coherency and clarity.
Ironically you can also feel a little frustrated, bound by these niceties in order for people to understand and relate. People begin to judge. It is easy to do, especially in the ease of your own home, in your personal spheres, reading about other people, and never having to face their opinions of your judgements. Never having to face the reality compared to those judgements. And then you can begin to question yourself. Question what you have written, question your actions, question your thinking and feelings.
Paradoxically, writing with the knowledge that other people do in fact read what you write, and perhaps react, sometimes even to the point of being motivated to comment, well, that brings a sense of comfort too. To know that you are not alone. To know that other people can relate to the things you feel. To know that your thoughts and feelings are in fact normal. Maybe writing to an audience allows you to share. And when people are moved enough to comment, they are simply offering you a yardstick of sorts to show where you sit in the social sphere of interaction. And as social creatures, that is perhaps not such a bad thing. Sometimes it may simply be pride and stubborness are the only two things that stop us from being able to be congenial to all.
And of course, sometimes, writing to an audience is simply a call out. A desire to ask people for advice. To let them know of your situation, and hope that someone can offer something substantial to the table. Some words of wisdom, or some unbiased observations to put you back on track, and try to help you emerge from the jungle.
A good friend of mine came across my blog the other day. He already knew about it early on, so it was no surprise or shock to me for him to return to read. He told me that he was surprised about what he was reading. That from our last conversation, he had been under the impression that I was over the entire situation and moved on. His comment highlights something that I have mentioned in passing before. Perhaps I am being a little too obsessive. Perhaps I should in fact stop all of this. After all, it has been close to 4 months now. You'd think I'd just "get over it" and move on...
I'm tired of having to justify all my actions. To friends, to people in general, to myself. I saw him online last night and did the usual stupid thing and unblocked him for a little while. It appears he was sick over Christmas. And we sort've half organised for him to see me today. He'll be in with a friend.
Upon later reflection, knowing that he was trying to keep his promise I think is enough. The catch here is that I have to go down to him and not the other way around - because I offered (before he asked, of course). And now I am regretting a little at having done that. On top of that, I picked up my novel yesterday at the booksales. And it has been as good as I had hoped for. Riveting reading that stopped me from sleeping until 1.30 last night, and prevented me from catching up on sleep on the trains this morning. I am currently halfway through, and am so so so tempted to push aside all my work and just sit here and finish reading it.
But yeh, I don't know if I want to go in and see him. I'm tempted not to. Perhaps knowing that he kept his promise - or tried to - is enough for me. I can't figure out whether I am trying to punish myself, trying to make this work, or simply being difficult. Maybe I'm testing him, even though I already know that he will fail. If I say no to him, it will be like water off a duck's back (for him). And then I will sit and mope about it. It would be nice for him to pine for me. It would be nice for him to offer to see me again sometime later.
It would also just be useful to start being friends with him. In meeting a friend of his today, it would be a little turning point, a little entry point into his life. My first entrance.
Yet, I am wary at progressing.
And I want to test my resolve. THe last time I tested my resolve in a relationship, the relationship fell apart. Is this what my subconscious is really trying to do? End this? Although unlike that last relationship, I can't make this failing his fault. He's not the type. And he doesn't care about me enough to.
It's just that he's so hard to read. And I have discovered that perhaps I don't really like people that are hard to read. People who are such an enigma makes it frustrating for me to hold conversations with. Especially close ones. Because I open up so much it hurts to know that he doesn't do the same. That that interaction is never reciprocated.
Maybe I just feel like I'm doing all the work again. I don't know.
I just want to wipe it all away.
posted by Enigmatic Butterfly @ 10:07 am
1 Comments:
Basically, you have just summed up the quirks about writing. Ha! i can only nod in agreement.
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