Wow...it's been a long time since I've been on Blogger, I haven't even glanced at it. It feels odd even writing something new for a post, although it's also mixed with another feeling, one that can only be described in three words...I've missed this.
The festive season seemed to sweep me away, and I spent my days watching Christmas television, eating lots of chocolate and satsumas, generally lazying around. Then January arrived and I realised I had lots of uni work to do, so there went my days. And then suddenly all the days seemed to come and go, and before I knew it we're nearly at the end of February.
No way. *Blinks*
It feels like nothing has happened, yet so much that I can even think what. Life is as bumpy as ever, but I know that's a sentiment we can all share in.
Talking about sharing, I wanted to share something with you. (If there's anyone still left reading this.) I talk a lot on here about my dreams of becoming a writer, however there is one dream that I long ago realised I would have to set aside.
In my wildest dreams, the kind where I can do ANYTHING...anything in the world and know I'll be awesome at it, I act. But not just any kind of acting, I want to be an actress of musicals. The kind that dances, and cries while they're singing, then plasters on a smile for the finale. (Of course, not all musicals end happily.)
But I put this dream aside because I had to do that horrid thing and admit that I wasn't good enough. Because I wasn't. However I still dream that one day I will have a chance to at least be in the chorus of some professional production, then at least I can say that I tried. And it was brilliant. I know that deep down I still have hopes to act, act in anything that will have me, but now I've got this fear that I'm not good enough for that either. For a variety of reasons.
The thing is, as cheesy and cliché as this will sound...it's the truth. Writing saved me. Without that connection of pen to paper, fingers on lettered keys, I would have lost myself and ended up somewhere that I don't even want to think about. I almost was there. Then the fact that the writing turned out not to be half bad was just a bonus.
For me writing isn't just about the recognition, although it's great when praise comes, it's about the feeling of telling something. Telling something about myself, or a fictional character. Telling a story that only I can tell because it's in me. That is what's amazing about it. And when I read, I can see that feeling pouring off the page, because I know that writer felt it too, a burning desire to share something within them.
And now I've shared, and I'm looking forward to catching up on some of the blogs I've missed to see what you've shared too.
