When you started your blog, did you set any goals? Have you achieved them? Have they changed at all?
I started my blog on WordPress just 3 days ago. My goal is to start writing more and develop as a writer, and maybe get some external input and encouragement along the way.
I began blogging as a sort of bet with my friends. We all plan on writing blogs for a certain period of time. At the end of it, we’ll present each of the others with a list of around thirty different blogs, from which they have to guess which one ours is – that was the idea. So far, still sticking with it, but three days isn’t a lot. Who knows what might happen between now and then?
But, to be honest, even that’s not the truth – the bet might’ve been the final impetus to actually make it happen, but my actual goal as such was not a goal – it was my need to be heard.
I like talking, always have. I like it even better when I have an audience. It’s cathartic to talk your heart out to someone, and it’s nice being able to talk to people who will and can judge you solely on the basis of your thoughts, beliefs and expression.
So my blogging goals are basically still the same. To be able to think, write and be heard. But then, isn’t that everyone’s?
You encounter a mysterious man offering you a magic potion that, once sipped, will make one of your senses (sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch) super sharp — but dull the others. Will you sip it, and if so, what sense do you choose?
“Yes! Sight,” I replied without thinking, and before I could look away I suddenly saw him illuminated, bathed in an aura of petals of purple and gold at the fringes and, as I went deeper, colors I couldn’t explain, colors which were not so much colors as…feelings. I could suddenly see him with absolute clarity. But that didn’t quite cover it. I normally saw at people, if that made sense. But now…now I really saw him – saw his thoughts, his feelings, the very intensity and progression of his feelings.
It didn’t quite matter that I had to lean in a little to hear what he said next; it didn’t matter when our parting handshake felt like we were clasping each others’ hands through thick woolen mittens; didn’t quite matter when the coffee I drank fifteen minutes later felt like thick water running down my throat. I could finally see.