a blogger struggling to blog (i’ve said it before – i really don’t like that word)

this is a blog about blogging.  and maybe bloggers, too.  also probably the creative process and why it can be frustrating.

what a terrible first paragraph.

i’m not a writer.  i mean, yeah, i write…or type, or whatever…but i’m not “a writer.”  there is definitely a reason that this is the 9th post on this blog since i started it 8 or 9 months ago.  i feel like i have a lot to say, and usually it gets down on “paper” to some degree of concision, but i’m having some dang block right now.  of course the natural series of events that happens after i realize that something i’m writing is going nowhere (like the 950 word post i had been working on that i had to stop looking at) is that i start freaking out, deleting stuff, regretting deletion, questioning everything about myself, believing that i’m not interesting enough to write about life experiences, wondering what my purpose is and why i live the life i live…i mean seriously.  my struggle as a non-writer to deliver eventually leads me to thinking that my life is a waste!  so crazy.  (obviously i’m not being serious…completely.)

and will somebody please clarify once and for all if the period comes before or after the paren???  i can never remember.

then i start thinking that i need to find a niche.  i could go down the dad blog road.  maybe the religious road.  perhaps a food blog – but if i do that, be warned that i will go on and on and on about how amazing pizza and ranch is – because i’m not a chef either!  (but can i get an “amen”???  if you’ve ever had cpk’s ranch, you’ll know why my eyes fill with tears at the thought of DIPPING my pizza in it – especially when they aren’t skimping and give me the bowl of ranch instead of the saucer.  yes.  LORD!)  sytycd (“so you think you can dance”) is running currently, so i could spend posts upon posts reviewing every episode of that parade of clowns.

i definitely couldn’t be a fashion blogger.  although, the more and more i comb through blog related hashtags on instagram, the more i’m realizing that the world is filled with fashionistas.  i mean really.  it’s almost as if the fact that you wear clothes qualifies you to be a trendsetting fashion blogger.  it’s great because a lot of what i see is jank.  yes, a lot of it is totally gauche, but somehow most of it all looks the same: same poses, same pictures, same phrases.  they’re a dime a dozen.

and why is that?  what is it about buying a semi-professional camera, dressing up in something that you think is just CUTE, having somebody take pictures of you in which you pretend that you are caught off guard – you know, the pics where you’re mid-stair walk, or when you just happened to be caught tucking your hair behind your ear whilst looking behind you, or when whoever is taking the photo happens to catch you, profile, gazing into the distance, deep in thought – and writing about how great your outfit is?  i’m fairly certain that there is something extremely sociological/psychological happening.  come to think of it, i’d actually like to speak to a professional about what inspires these blogs and the people who write them.

then there is another type of blogger that seems to dominate the fortress of amateur, personal blogs on the interweb.  it’s the 20-something-female-my-life-is-perfect-but-not-really blog.  [NOTE: before i go any further, i hope that none of you bloggers find this offensive.  there are a few of you who may be reading this that are thinking to yourselves “ok RUDE.  BYE.”  rest assured, if i follow your blog, whether on facebook or otherwise, i don’t think you fall into the aforementioned category.  honest to God.  don’t let your feelings get hurt.  if i thought you were one of these girls, i woulda unfollowed a while ago.]  i can’t tell you how many “messy wife”s i’ve come across.  and you’re probably wondering what in the heck i am talking about.  they call themselves “messy wives.”  messy wife.  messy.  wife.  it sounds silly, doesn’t it?  like, what is a messy wife?  *writes a blog.  signs it “the messy wife”*  LIKE WHAT THE HECK.  are you incapable of cleaning?  would you be better off wearing a bib while eating?  no?  ohhhh, i see.  it’s a somewhat of a code name you use to give the impression that while your blog is all about everything you can do to attain the perfect little life, you’re imperfect on the inside.  noted.  continue.

i guess i can’t be too annoyed by this, because at least these “dirty spouses” are acknowledging that they aren’t actually perfect, despite that that’s what their blogs might tempt one to believe.  it is what it is.  (i will add, though, that i appreciate the handful of these types of bloggers  who occasionally write about deeper things, personal things.  i respect that.  and whoa.  i am NOT trying to make myself sound like some expert blogger.  this is getting crazy.)

but aren’t we all kinda messy?  it’s understandable that we would be tempted to make things seem peachy on the outside – ESPECIALLY if things are REALLY out of whack on the inside.  my blog is called “terence transparent.”  it’s actually somewhat of a misleading title.  sure, i am being almost completely transparent about the things i have written so far, but guys, i FILTER.  i’m not just gonna air out all my dirty laundry.  in my head (which is getting full to the brim with thoughts – i curse whoever made me a deep thinker) i am not lacking subject matter for blog posts.  i do, however, strive to be as open as possible about what i do choose to write about.  but it’s difficult.  it’s hard to thoracotomize myself and be as bare as i have been.

and couple that with my severe lack of writing abilities…??  yikes!

it reminds me of when i was still dancing.  for as difficult as i find writing, i can tell you that baring one’s soul on stage is waaaaay harder.  i mean, you’re already in tights – no questions about what a dancer looks like – but on top of that, you have to come to a place of complete vulnerability.  i don’t know if i ever truly reached the point where i opened my chest and ripped my heart out.  i tried, though.  i really tried as best as i could.  to be honest, i’m not even sure that it’s even possible to measure true transparency or vulnerability in art.  maybe the effort that i put into showing myself was in fact the accomplishment that i was trying to attain.  who knows.  it’s probably more of a process than an end result.

but let me choreograph.  my body feels and moves.  my mind is connected to phrases and energy…these things i write about would be more easily danced about.  my fingers can clumsily tap their way across a keyboard, but i want my feet to fly across the room…turning, and jumping, and reaching.  but in this current season, that isn’t possible.  it will be one day, hopefully soon, but now right now.  these feelings and thoughts and ideas can’t be danced.

and that’s why i struggle to write.  that’s why the 950 word post i mentioned before is now down to 450.  that’s why i started ANOTHER blog post in the middle of this one that is also unfinished…almost unstarted.  (i’m just makin’ up words right and left – whatever works.)  and that’s why there are 4358 years in between blog posts.  and that’s why this blog exists.  there is a song inside of me, yearning to be sung – steps yearning to be danced – and this is the safest place to sing and dance somehow.  this giant network we call “the internet” somehow feels safer than being on stage in front of an audience of mere hundreds.

and to the messy wives: show yourself a little more.  tear the walls down, unlock the door, draw the blinds.  we know you aren’t perfect, so no need to scream it.  just be real, i guess.

and this one is 1381 words long.  so much for that writer’s block.