Let’s start at the very beginning…

a very good place to start— not. It’s strange for me to begin a “project” in the middle of December. Due to my unusually borderline OCD leanings, one would expect nothing short of a prompt and precise entry on the first day of the new year. 2008! Celebration galore! This is, however, not the case. In fact, nothing particularly pressing has triggered this sudden decision to create a (oh, do not smite me) blog. My life remains, as always, relatively uneventful and unexceptionally normal. And I mean that in the best possible sense. Honestly.

I haven’t recorded anything that has happened in my life for a while, something I have truly grown to regret. I remember the general feelings and thoughts that crossed my mind in that period of time, but I doubt they will remain with me for much longer. In the end, I’ll simply pile over them with more memories, more rantings, more life. It is only too bad that I did not write them all down, even if only for the sentimental value of remembering myself. So I have decided to try and rekindle my journaling. I have never been much good in that area.

I used to write in a locked journal, but that was before my sister found it and used it for pure evil. Who could have guessed that those flimsy gold locks were useless? The recordings of my imaginary worlds were scribbled about in various spirals, but I threw those away years later after realizing the mortal embarrassment that I would face should those recordings ever surface. After reading Harriet The Spy, I attempted my own journal of observations before realizing that other people bored me. My crushes over the years were listed and accessed in a medium sized, hardcover notebook, but I literally shredded each and every page of unrequited love. After becoming somewhat computer-literate, I moved my soul-releasing to Livejournal, but deleted them all upon much shame and retrospection. All I have left are my scattered Xanga entries, many of which are edited and altered for content. I hate to look back at myself. The reflection is frightening.

This, however, is what I intend to do. I really want to get back to the heart of who I am and what I want. I feel as if, over the years, I have really lost valuable perspective. In some aspects of my life, I have grown beyond what I ever imagined and I do not regret that growth at all. In fact, I am who I am because of the changes I have gone through. At this point, I really must admit that I enjoy being me. I like who I am and, coming from me, that is saying something.

In other aspects, though, it might have served me well to remember and put to use the part of me that I used to love so deeply. I used to be passionate and determined and ambitious and, oh my, those were the days. I used to think about writing all the time, the characters I would shape and the worlds I would create and the stories I would tell. My mind used to feed off of daydreams and settle into this space removed from reality. It sounds strange, but I used to think about things all the time. I used to have dreams that I strongly and desperately wanted. Now, in the midst of finding myself and trying to figure out my place in everything else, I feel as though I’ve lost sight. I have lost perspective.

It is about time I regain it. I do not know how one goes about finding misplaced perspective, but I am hoping this will help. So, I am getting back to my roots. Let the madness begin.

Finding Myself