#95: The Blog

woman writing on a notebook beside teacup and tablet computer

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom on Pexels.com

After discussing how my poetry has changed over time, I’d like to take a bit to talk about how my blogging has evolved, who I write it for, and how that feels.

When I studied abroad for six months, I was introduced to the idea of personal blogging. Everyone was doing some variation of it; whether they were chronicling their travels or just keeping in touch with family, nearly every student abroad had a photo album or online blog prepared to share with everyone. I felt that it was necessary for me to join in, too. Now, that blog is set to private and probably won’t see the light of day any more, but it existed for a time and served its purpose: it helped others know what I was up to, and it kept me writing.

Nowadays, I commit to writing at least 300 words or so a day. Sometimes I skip a day, but that’s only after writing 600 or more words the day prior. I like to overcompensate and give myself days off from writing, like going to the gym. I had a conversation with a friend awhile back in which she said she was writing every day, and that’s what inspired me to continue like this. I also write this blog so that I can appreciate the smaller stuff in life, while also making sure I have an outlet for my writing. Writing is a huge hobby of mine, and I don’t want to abandon it. Personal blogging is a strong way of holding that hobby together and keeping it consistent over time.

I should also mention that this blog, after all, isn’t for anyone in particular except for myself. I don’t aim to become popular through this, and I don’t want to achieve high engagement numbers or anything like that. This is a collection of my writings, and the occasional likes help motivate me to write more, but they aren’t my primary source of motivation. I am intrinsically motivated to write as much as possible, at least 300 words a day, and this blog gives me the opportunity to hold myself accountable for all that.

Advertisements

Towering

big ben bridge castle city

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In London every street has a name

(although it’s hard to tell)

And every train station has a train

usually within a minute at least

 

In London every store has underpaid workers

unless you’re in Westminster

And every cashier has the same shit-eating grin

because they’re in London, so who cares?

 

In London every palace has at least seven bedrooms

one for each day of the week

And every king or queen has distant family members

in every other European nation

 

In London every homeless stranger asks for money

but in the most polite way

And every empty plastic cup feels like a dagger

in my heart

 

In London all the bridges have names

some more exciting than others

And all the streams connect somehow

to the vast river in the center

 

In London all the bookshops store “Trainspotting”

because it’s everyone’s favorite novel

And all the people sit quietly

because they don’t want to bother anyone

 

In London all the pubs radiate outward

as everything around them comes alive

And all the drinks will amaze you

with how quickly they drag you down

Wouldn’t You?

Send me to the Sahara

To the rain forests

To the grandest canyons

The vilest slums of London

I’ll survive

When I find our new world

You’ll see it too

With your mind’s eye

From the words of a diary

Somewhere

A train pulls into station

And someone

Emerges in another realm

Metamorphosis

Mind and body unrecognizable

A new animal is born

Every day

I escape

Follow the moon

From on earth I

Soar through dark and distant time zones

Can’t see the sun

Anymore

Life is tragic and beautiful

Take the sky from me

And I regress

Paradise’s out there

Realms of all manners await

I’m not alone

Wouldn’t you?

In London

In London every street has a name

(although it’s hard to tell)

And every train station has a train

usually within a minute at least

 

In London every palace has at least seven bedrooms

one for each day of the week

And every king or queen has distant family members

in every other European nation

 

In London every homeless stranger asks for money

but in the most polite way

And every empty plastic cup feels like a dagger

in my heart

 

In London all the bridges have names

some more exciting than others

And all the streams connect somehow

to the vast river in the center

Each Night

Each day separate but

Each night I think the same thoughts

I don’t know what it is I miss

That I can’t find here

Whether it’s the cold weather

Breeding chilly complacency

Or the familiar structures

The short paved roads

The unused swimming pools

Or the stark red stop signs

The roar of neighboring motorcycles

The corporate juggernauts

With their two-faced friendliness

Or the convenience stores all the same

But different here indescribably

That’s the aura I sense in this

Peculiar new world

Absolute but ambiguous difference

I guess the situation is clear now

Everybody needs some love in their lives

To carry on