Failed Experiment

First, while I enjoy talking about my memories, they’re not what I want to focus on. Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful being alone and thinking about that time my uncle and cousin went camping in Jayuya, only to freeze our butts off and have our tent accosted by bats; or that time a group of us decided to walk by the river they were cleaning up and getting my leg stuck in smelly muck; or that time I got a new bike and tried to race my dad’s car. But it’s the past. It happened, and it was great, and while I may enjoy going there once in a while, it’s not a place I want to spend my remaining days, which will probably be far greater than the days those memories encompass. This format was a response to anxiety, plain and simple. Yes, I have a lot of anxiety, and I have had a number of anxiety attacks, and over all I think it’s taken a toll on my health, but running into my mind and shutting out the present and future in lieu of the past is no way to handle that. Rather, the bulk of that time should be spent on the here and now, or thinking and talking about the future, about the great things that are to be.

Now, there was a good justification for the format, outside of just running away: I wanted to leave a legacy of some sort, a place where descendants could come to and read about my experiences and world. I know, a web page isn’t the best place to do it, but I’m slowly storing it away, printing certain pieces and collecting them for future readers. My point was that it would be easier if I emphasized the important things and stored the trivial in places not many would look. In theory, this was supposed to work great. In practice, it ended up becoming rather stifling. As it turned out, a lot of what I wanted to say was rather personal, so I began keeping a journal. In essence, the thoughts and memories that were supposed to be coming here got put there because they were simply too personal. Although I love sharing a lot of my life with you, the fact is that you only see a very small portion of it, and while I do still wish to leave a trace of myself behind once all is said and done, I’d rather some aspects stayed private.

The second big reason for the setup involved quality: I wanted pieces of great quality to hit the front page, while others of lesser quality stayed hidden. Again, didn’t work that way. Turned out that I churned some rather high quality stuff that, due to its content and length, got shoved away in the stack of writings that would never hit the front page. On the other hand, pressure to create quality pieces created a threshold that was simply too high, resulting in not only the lack of posted articles, but eventually the lack of writing altogether. Heck, even my personal journals took a hit, despite the fact that I don’t censor myself in any way with those.

Just in case you’re wondering, my censoring is not about the language: I rarely use obscenities, even in my private writing. The censoring here boils down to whether or not I’m sharing too much: would I want someone responding to a post, or worse, coming to me in the street and telling me, “hey, I have some advice about the incredibly personal situation you’re writing about.” Thanks, but no.

I’m digressing. Back on point: quality. Expectations were too high. Pressure kept me from doing that which I should be doing and that is putting thought to words. This format just wasn’t conducive towards that.

So what does this mean? For you, if you’re reading via RSS, it means absolutely nothing. I’ll still keep the RSS just the way it is, still keep the featured stories, still keep all of that. For me, it means time for another redesign, something that’ll fit what I want to portray and which will be conducive to writing, whether that be about typewriters or cars or social media or even memories. It also means I can stop focusing on being great and simply focus on writing. That’s what’s important.

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