Two years. I first entertained the thought two years ago. I had spent half an hour in an empty Discord channel breaking down my thoughts on some spectacular trainwreck β I believe it was Wonder Egg Priority? I am terminally bored. This happens, sometimes.
But as I read it back, stumbling over my own leaps in logic, I wondered: would I enjoy running a blog? Writing has been a lifelong pleasure of mine, but one which too often falls to the wayside. Proclaiming my opinions, though, is something I will never struggle with. I figured that I should create my own site shortly after. I have minimal experience with web development, but I trusted myself to catch up to speed on whatever basic competencies the task demanded quickly enough.
I was right to: the process was not difficult. For when something becomes a task, I find it too easy to put off; when something becomes a project, to finalise and to release it feels like crystallising myself for public display.
To really begin writing consistently on a public forum seems much like opening a museum dedicated to archiving every subtle mistake I hope to one day grow past. The thought disgusts me. Now may not be the best time in my life to begin such an undertaking if I were aiming for consistency.
But I have no obligation to anyone but myself: I am publishing scrap today so that I can break through the haze of private conceptual planning and work on what I want, knowing I have already declared the intent to do so. I have no doubts that this will help me. I am young. I have plenty of time to exhaust myself of ideas yet, even writing at a very casual pace. What matters is that I can always work on writing when it suits me, for writing makes me happy.
