When I first created this blog (at the very dramatic age of fifteen), I wanted to post my observations related to things I read. I made song playlists for books, mainly. I also followed a lot of book-review blogs, and participated in the book tags that go around such communities. It was, overall, a space for the reader in me to post my views on everything related books.
A few posts later, I began to write. I posted short stories and poems that my teenage self was pretty proud of despite the obvious insecurities. I also posted “quotes” everyday from books and songs, and even went on to make occasional personal updates. I have never been able to write very elegant prose or enchanting poetry, but I like to write, nevertheless. I named this space Thunderstorms and Sunshine because it was where I addressed all sorts of things, the sunshine as well as the rain. This didn’t last long. My insecurities drowned my pride, and college engulfed all of my spare time, turning my quite dynamic blog into one where I post book reviews and only book reviews.
This is my last semester in college as an English major. Throughout my undergrad course, I have been haunted by the loss of the writer in me. I have never been one to write elegant prose or enchanting poetry, but I have always loved to write, for as long as I remember. For the last three years, however, I have been only reading. I read for college, I read for reviewing, I read in my spare time. I have read everything from classics to cheesy YA novels, from Beowulf to A Court of Thorns and Roses, and I have loved every second.
This semester, however, we have a professor who discusses non-fictional personal essays with us, and makes us write our own ones. It’s an odd feeling, to use the first person pronoun in a writing for class, to incorporate my own feelings into a piece of writing without worrying about quotes and citations and thematic concerns. It brought forward a matter that has been disturbing me for the past few years – the conflict between my reader-self and my writer-self. There is no reason why these two selves cannot co-exist harmoniously, and yet I haven’t been able to make them do so for a long while now, if ever.
Blogging is perhaps a dying medium, and this blog of mine is surely a dying one. It is entirely possible that I won’t post anything beyond book reviews here for the next 5 years. Perhaps I am meant to be more of a reader, after all. There is, however, a part of me that has more things to say. Things beyond my thoughts on someone else’s work. We’ll see.