Today, I’m thankful for writing. I mean, that must be obvious, since I have a blog. I’ve always been into different types of writing and expression growing up. There are many journals in boxes somewhere in my parent’s house, as well as short scripts and idea scraps. After working hard at crafting my writing in high school and deciding to pursue it through the college newspaper at OSU, I started to figure out my voice and my strengths. I’ve written analytical papers, I’ve written fluff papers, I’ve been a reporter, I’ve written a fashion column, I’ve written the most boring copy and random copy for a slew of topics and companies. I like a good challenge. I also like catharsis. This week I’ve been inside my own head a bit too much, and there’s way too much to sort out that’s not appropriate at all for blogland (if I’m arguing all sides with myself in my brain, can you imagine the mess that would end up here?), and so I’ve been writing. My first impulse is to journal. If thoughts are replaying in my head over and over again like I’m trying to explain them to someone, usually writing them out helps. But with all the reading I’ve been doing lately, and after hearing Junot Diaz speak recently, I think about writing in other ways. Creativity is a great thing, even if it doesn’t lead to much. There are so many times I return to old stories I’ve written as part of coping with something or just for fun, and I’m genuinely surprised. Not just because it’s good (um, humblebrag?) but because it almost doesn’t seem like I wrote it.
Oh, and for the record, part of the reason my brain is messed up is from this WTF podcast with Daniel Smith. I listen to these interviews when I’m half awake in the morning. I’d like to read his books, but after listening to him and Maron talk through their anxiety and life problems, it all got inside my head so much that I’m not sure I could handle it.