No value

I haven't written for nineteen days. It's another one of those stretches, where I do try to write, going as far as composing paragraphs in my head, like I always do - and yet I don't type them down, until they disappear forever.

And they do disappear forever. I haven't written about my trip to Malaysia with Shalla - and that was in November two years ago. I haven't written my self-designated flagship essay about our trip to Seoul - and that was in December three years ago. All they were are plans, paragraphs in my head, never laid down.

Yeah, this is me writing about my lack of writing to fill a gap caused by my lack of writing, again. And you will argue that I have been writing a lot still, but in other places. Sure. I have. I would usually say that is the reason. But for this nineteen-day stretch, something is different. Something else is bouncing back and forth in my head.

"If I were you, I'd close down the personal blog. It has no value to readers."

This friend means well. I'm certain of that. The point was, my other blog - the music blog, the writing experiment I'm seriously looking to close down for lack of time - had more value, as it had a point of view, as it helped other people, that sort of thing. This one, by that logic, does not have any value, because really, it's just me pretending to have an avenue for the things I want to write down, but nobody really cares about.

Sometimes I see the point in that, but imagine being told your thoughts, your comments, your opinions have no value because they're not helping other people.

Now, of course, I write this publicly; a part of me, an unacknowledged part of me, is looking for some sort of affirmation. Sometimes I do. It makes me happy, knowing someone took the time to read the shit I've been writing and even react to it. Isn't that why we're public about this? But I've long learned not to expect that, partly because of the parameters I have set for myself. The whole "it's your blog" thing may be a tired trope, but that applies. I do what I want with it, I write what I want to write on it. Call me old school that way, amidst a sea of bloggers who take pains to pretend so they get adoring readers.

All this is is a collection of essays, really. If someone stumbles upon it and likes it, fine. I've been doing this for thirteen years - long enough to know I would not really make a dent with this. I'm just clutter that someone might find interesting nonetheless. More importantly, it's for me to be able to say things. It's really been for that all these years. It's where I articulate my thoughts and deposit them for public view, for better or worse.

All that, for one well-meaning friend, is of no value. It's like being told all your opinions are of no value. It's like being told you yourself are of no value. All right. I might as well get off.

And your responses...

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