Missed this.

I often found it selfish to do this. The act itself of writing on a blog unconsciously harnessing the energy of audience attention . Redundant right? "Audience attention" is a complex phrase for me, mostly due to the fact that I care to criticize what I find to be obscene in the world based on my unconscious demons. Why? I like privacy. I love keeping myself to myself. But I write... Why should I rant about me, when there are other "ME's".

I believe everyone is burdened with their own lives, comprising of tedious responsibilities to soulful desires for ultimate happiness. Of course, to add to that list, we struggle to complete all of it before our time is up. I don't think anyone has time for anyone else, if they hardly have time fore themselves. See, privacy is sacred to me, mainly due to the fact that I am used to it. I am used to being alone as one says. As I said before, I am an only child with a singular lifestyle. Many times before, I had to clear this seemingly cry for help. However, if you know me, you know my declaration is not a woeful status, but a matter of fact statement of a contented singular being. I am solid. I have always been. In Sylvia Plath's movie, titled (hard to tell huh?) "Sylvia", Gywneth Palthrow playing Sylvia says, "I don't feel solid." It made me sad. She continued by saying "I have never felt whole". Because the subject matter of this post is on "writing", I cannot help but bring up a writer, or more accurately, a poet. To my dismay, she suffered the pervasive symptoms of most writers- feelings of abject depression and frequent thoughts of suicide at her lowest moments.

I'll tell you something that has always been with me since I was very young. In contrast to Ms. Plath, I have always felt entirely whole AND solid. I struggle like everyone else with releasing the pressure of a full tank through self-expression, but I always feel like ME. No matter the alien environment. No matter the expectation to be something or someone else. I always feel solid as a rock. Of course everyone has anxieties and sometimes the inner equilibrium of the self feels shifted back and forth, depending on hormonal fluctuations (biological origins) and the demanding interactions with other people; however, I like to think I have never truly felt the hopelessness of Ms. Plath.

Tying into privacy and writing, writers seem to have no qualms about bearing their souls in words. One would be niave to think that communicative expressions in writing, painting and etc. are simply creative endeavors for the sake of productivity with little insight into the human being who looks like nothing but a bag of flesh. Strange how complex we are on the inside. Strange how the invisible and intangible is more of our reality than what is before our eyes. People seem to need to write. For others it does not seem as selfish as I think it is. Maybe I am more old fashioned? I prefer the diary style of writing. There are different types of writing: writing for others, writing for ourselves, and etc. Am I wrong to think that nowadays that writing is for the masses in our tech fueled society? It is ok to share, but the narcissistic intent (not everyone, but a majority of people seem to do this) of others is disconcerting. I can be narcissistic at times. I am probably one now, but I am surprised others seem unaware of this human vice. Don't say too much. Listen... Believe me, I struggle with this everyday.

So, the message is here is "write" or "type" (whatever), but do please do it with temperance, in regard to the well being aka the sanity of others and yourself. Mainly, this idea stems from my preoccupation with preserving the person we already give to the world. I believe in the integrity of privacy but the inherent need to share what matters. Also, I know from numerous psychological sources and from my own observations that we only care about ourselves. People will take offense to that statement so I will rephrase. We care more about ourselves than others (more polite way to say it). Again, nothing wrong with an attention to the self. However, we would be fibbing if we did not acknowledge this. Stop pretending. I acknowledge it right now. I love writing and reading about what happens to ME, because I am preoccupied with me. I am hardwired for that. Evolutionary psychology can offer a plethora of answers to strike your academic citation obsession, but I will not get into that.

I receive immense pleasure for writing, not because of competency; but, because like you, I enjoy and require the release. Whether I repeatedly talked about a dog who crossed the street with a four word sentence, which would be of no substance to you than me, I would still write. However, the main point lies in me feeling regret in telling the whole world, even if it was a handful of people how I was feeling. Even if you cared, you shouldn't. Maybe I think no one will care. Problem is too many people think the audience cares when in fact it is the opposite. Never expect someone to care. Sometimes you do not have control over the type of audience you receive. You have to accept not everyone is as into you as you are with yourself.

Just because you have an audience, doesn't mean they are paying attention. But, we all want both right?

Here is to being noticed...

My new website will be called "FameForward". It is a site for new talent to get noticed, all in an effort to answer that profound nagging question, "Does someone care?"

Let's hope I get the audience's attention. The words seem one in the same, but are not...

Novel realization? Not really. No purpose to this post... I just wanted to release. LOL