I'm tired of trying to sound smart. I want blogging to be more than just a report to what I know. Sometimes, I just want to bullshit and tell stories, just want to hold one feeling, one moment, one man, and show you how that presence changed my life.
There are universal feelings that both intellectuals and simpletons experience. There are common things that keep us motivated and rolling out of bed every morning. I want explore these common things because these are the stuff that gave my education its penny's worth. I feel that fiction is the only way I can explore that kind of truths without stating facts, you know?
If I learned to write stories well enough, I might be able to show more without losing contextual frame or becoming glaringly sunny. I long to tell the stories that made my life more understandable without turning didactic or (if I can help it) snobby.
Remember that meditation retreat that froze my thoughts? Fourteen months and a few more sects later, and I still can't delete this blog. I still can't quit publishing and satisfying the need to self-exhibit.
Between not wanting to say anything and blog-existential-anxieties, one of these has to give: Either lose Hning's blogging style or lose the core, the god within and her urgent writing-voice.
I don't know what matters anymore. I just need to keep writing.