Reboot: I love you, I hate you

“Because of the kids. They called me Mr. Glass.”

I have a troubled relationship with my blog.
It has nothing to do with my perceived opinion of the content on it, because even when it is good, I think I should quit on a high note, and when it is bad, I think I should quit because it is all downhill from there.

This uncertainty is heightened with every post. You write something good, and people show up next time expecting similar. Now you’re doubling down, sitting at the table with beads of sweat pooling on your forehead, staring at your cards. And if you hit that successfully, your reward is that you get to come back and do it again. The tension of every hand builds on the one before it.

Many children start primary school at the age of four and by then, they have only been potty trained for about two years. They are just learning their bodies, their bowels, their stomachs. Imagine you are a brilliant student, first in your class in every subject except fine art, but you’re also lactose intolerant.
One day, your mother gives you some cereal and milk before school, and half way through Maths class, watery shit dribbles down your legs into your socks, pooling in your sandals. All of the cool that you have built up disappears and everyone starts calling you Poo-poo boy until you graduate.
That is what primary school is about. Not learning, not building social skills, no. It is about trying to get through each day without shitting yourself.

In horror entertainment, with scary movies, you put in the DVD and play and whether you pay attention or not, the ride goes on. You can close your eyes to avoid the gory scenes, fall asleep, walk away, and eventually the movie ends without your participation. But with a book, you have to make the effort each time of picking up the book and turning the page to face the things that scare you.

Blogging is like that.
I struggle with the posts. I struggle just as much with the comments.
Many other things come easy for me, so I am not crying foul and demanding that this should be easy too.
Actually, it is fair that this should be this way, because the alternative would be a life devoid of challenge, to refuse to go to school because I am worried that one day I will fall.

See you on Friday.


19 thoughts on “Reboot: I love you, I hate you

  1. Or, that one day you will poo.

    The pressure at once helps and stifles. Mostly it stifles, however the period of agony births ideas that could bloom in the light. You need both, and as a writer the struggle is almost as important as the work itself.

    Now stop being so melodramatic and write something.

  2. Ain’t that part of the joy of life? Conquering our fears and leaping off into the unknown, hoping there’s a parachute on our back or a safety net on the ground.
    Ahem *clears throat* So what should we expect on Friday?

  3. #sigh
    You sound like the others, a post to pre-warn that you would soon give up blogging, and start attending to ‘more important issues’. I hope you won’t.
    Looking forward to your posts

  4. Just Do It. Blogging consistently is a struggle, but it can be done. You might have to abandon that “perfectionist” part and press on regardless. And you’re no longer a rookie, so …

  5. Hmmm.. I find it weird how so many can relate to this post. Or maybe I am weird for not..?

    I don’t see it as a challenge.. at all. or maybe what I mean to say is “Noone should”.

    I like to think of it as an online-diary or an individual’s “Bible” in a way; a collection of memoirs for all to see; a virtual reflection of one’s innermost self.
    Some posts might be great and very inspirational, while others might be found to be somewhat dull or insipid. Some posts will be deep and very personal, revealing your innermost fears or joys; while others will be as shallow and unimportant as could be. But does it really matter? Every single post is part of you.

    I had some posts I felt were among my best (ever), while there were others I wished I had never blogged. So what? It’s all part of being me. Some will love it, some won’t. But most importantly: keep keeping on. You’ll one day look back and be grateful you did.

    (P.s.: I don’t know with what tone you read this, but it’s all supposed to sound very sweet and encouraging *hug*)

    • And this is one of the things I love and aspire towards most about you: The ‘prolificness’ of your writing.

      It’s a lack of that which held me back for so long from opening a blog in the first place and now, passionate as I am about it, it just seems a bit of a chore keeping it up most of the time.

      And I said here , this same inconsistency of drive cuts across other areas I’m generally passionate about in my life… Maybe except reading sha.

      When I grow up I want to be like you.

      • Thank God for the time-stamp; otherwise I would have gone ahead to say “na wash” because we just had an “argument” lol.

        Still, please don’t be like me. Maybe as KIND as me could help ( ¬_¬) but all in all, you are alright..

        Having saif that, I’ll stop and accept the compliments with all modesty.

        Btw: That “Nothingness!”-post was the one that introduced me to Nigerian blogsville, you know.
        I don’t remember how I came across TNC, but it was your pic I saw/clicked on, and that post I read, that really got me started 😀

    • -_- I am encouraged.
      Okay, I’ve been thinking about this. I don’t really see my blog as a diary. I see it more as a collection of work, so it would be nice if the posts were interesting and well written.
      I realise there are thousands of blogs so people have options to read other stuff, and most of the readers don’t know me so they aren’t coming here to catch up on what I’ve been up to. There is a burden on the writer to make the work worthwhile for the people who choose it.
      Now, if I say it is work, why do I keep at it? There are three steps of the process: the thinking, the writing, and the posting. Regardless of whether or not I was posting, I would be thinking. This cannot be stopped. But unless you’re writing, and then posting, there is no tangible result of your thinking.
      To give substance to something you enjoy doing, you have to put it into a form where it can be tasted by everyone, and thus judged by everyone.
      It then becomes like public speaking, you cannot slur your words and say you don’t care if people like it or if they understand you. The whole aim is to pass on a message, an emotion, or an idea.
      If people don’t get it, you have failed.

      You said every single post is part of you. And that is true, but look at it like work, if you’re submitting documents for a knowledge repository, you don’t just submit anything, you (try to) hand in your best work. But then because everything is polished for public consumption, it means I am significantly less awesome than the posts indicate. Which leads to a whole other discussion about self-perception and what sides of yourself you show to people, and how even showing them everything can be misleading.
      This is just the tip of the rabbit hole, Alice.

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