Happy new year!
As I look back on my 2014… I realized that I didn’t write much on this blog. Haha.
I attempted to, several times, but nothing would come out.
This year, for my first entry, I struggled. I wanted to write about a variety of things. Political issues, current events, the latest restaurant I tried, the most recent trip I had, the awesome holiday sale, an insight to the book I am reading or the film I just saw… But I just couldn’t get down to writing it.
And I realized that I struggled because I was thinking of all these things with an audience in mind.
I wanted to write something “marketable.” I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to sound intelligent, seem cool, or appear crazy. Or all of the above. And I could never really pin down a topic because I didn’t think anything was good enough, or worthy enough of reading time.
I struggled because deep down, I knew, I just really wanted to be me.
Back in my elementary school years, I would write stories. I would get one of my mom’s yellow pads and just write. Writing transported me into another world, and in that world, everything seems to fit. I would write about random things. Sometimes fictional, sometimes based on real events in my life.
I wrote one story about two really good friends who entered into a conflict, and how they patched things up because they realized how much the value of their friendship outweighed their argument. I wrote it and instinctively gave it to two of my close friends who were fighting at that time. I honestly don’t remember the specific storyline of what I wrote or why my friends were fighting, but I remember giving it to them just because I wanted to. I wanted to tell them that their story affected me, and that I cared enough to write about it. That’s it. I did not think about how good or bad it was, or even of their reception. I gave it, and I forgot about it.
Some time passed and one of my friends (whom I gave my story to) came up to me and gave me a letter. In her letter she told me of the new things in her life, some things about her crushes, and school stuff. And then she told me of how she and my other friend made up because of me and that story I gave them. She said it made a difference in making them re-think about what was going on with them. Needless to say, I was surprised.
I remember that now because I know in my heart that as 2015 rolls in slowly, I want to be able to write like that again. To write just because I want to write. I never really gave out any of my stories before. I would print it (when we had the desktop computer already) or I would keep it in a folder (my mom’s yellow pad papers) and just re-read it from time to time. But I never really gave it away or asked someone to read it — and it wasn’t because I was afraid of being criticized or praised or even ignored, but it was because, I just didn’t see the need for it. It was something I love, and I just did it. No need for audience validation or approval. And amazingly enough, it was when I wasn’t thinking about pleasing, that I actually made a difference. Imagine that – my fat handwriting with my free-flowing thoughts and emotions, on my mom’s yellow pad papers – making a difference.
I want to be able to live more like that this 2015. And even more and more in the years that I will be given. To live with just an audience of One. To care deeply about people, but to not allow them to dictate who I choose to become, or give them the unbearable burden of validating me. To do the things I love in the purest form possible, with as little expectations or none, if possible. To love without expecting that it will be returned in the same manner or the same amount… that it will be returned at all.
And hopefully, in the process, without knowing, without looking… by God’s grace, make a real difference.