Sooo, yeah, here I am…writing on a blog. Or is that, “writing a blog.” Whichever it is, I certainly don’t know what I’m doing, nor do I know what will become of it or what you (yeah, you, the one person other than myself reading this) will make of it. Heck, I don’t even know if I’ve categorized this blog correctly. What I do know is that I expect it to become a cathartic experience for myself–I have always enjoyed writing (I’ll leave whether I’m actually good or not at it to you…what was your name, by the way?), and it has always been an outlet for me. However, my hope is that by putting this (er, myself?) out there it can potentially be of some use to you as well.
I was somewhat recently asked by my counselor–yes, I see a counselor monthly, it’s awesome, and I highly recommend it–if I’d ever considered writing a blog. Uhhh, no? I mean, again, I like to write and all, but what on Earth am I going to blog about? Well, I still don’t know the answer to that, but according to her my thoughts on, like, life stuff were insightful (her word, not mine) and could be helpful to others and that I should put it out there. So, here I am: OUT (T)HERE.
Save for those closest to me, my feelings are generally kept pretty close to the shirt (yes, I know the saying, but I don’t wear a vest and odds are neither do you). Anyhow, so if you’re not one of those closest to me (and if it’s really just you, What’s Your Name, then you probably aren’t) then this will be just as weird for you to read as it will be for me to write–SOLIDARITY.
Oh, yeah–the blog title: A book that really resonated with me in high school was “The Road Less Traveled” by Scott Peck. It’s a unique and interesting read, with some weird vocabulary (e.g. – “cathect”), and if you’ve never picked it up I highly suggest it. “The Road Somewhat Traveled,” “The Road (More) or Less Traveled,” etc. were all taken. So, I’m “kind of” traveled, because I’m a blogger now…kind of.
So, to conclude my first official blog post I will leave you with an excerpt from something I wrote in my “journal” a couple years ago. Enjoy (or something):
During my trip to Venezuela the summer after my freshman year of high school I had my palms read. I don’t remember too much from the experience except that the reader remarked that around the midpoint of my palm’s “lifeline” (if that’s what it’s called) there is a major negative life event which occurs. This has always stuck with me; namely because I always feared it signified someone close to me dying. And while time will certainly tell, I’ve begun to wonder if what occurred last July isn’t that event.I don’t think people ever really “get over” anything. I think it’s just another way of saying, “I’ve learned how to live with it.” It’s our psyche categorizing the experience in a way that we’re able come to terms with. I haven’t gotten over you; I’ve merely learned how to live my life with the understanding that you are gone. Since you left there hasn’t been a day that’s passed that you haven’t crossed my mind, and that’s just fine.