And then what?
I don’t know what to write. I’ve mentioned the list of ideas that I have for new posts, but have made little headway. But where I grasped at straws to explain away why it is that I haven’t been able to write, I’ve come to realize why it is roadblocks arise whenever I begin gaining momentum in writing. I’m not quite sure what any of “this” stands for.
This blog was started as a means of gaining better visibility and pitching a paid spot to Steinhardt as a means of ramping up “student visibility and personality” from someone who straddled well the fences of administration and students, understanding what it is that worked and could be approved. Hence, the travel portion of this blog was born.
And then I began using this space as a means of self-exploration and coping with everything that had transgressed in sophomore year. It actually helped me a lot more than I thought it would and set a couple of things right, or so I’d like to believe.
But there is only so much discussion on depression and the like that I can do ad nauseum before growing tired of it. Not to mention that we begin to run into the present with regards to my stories, and if you know me well, the closer to the present, the more vague I become in my descriptions. The reasoning behind the vagueness is purposeful; it is my means of creating some type of barrier between my self-expression and identifying clues to those in my life.
I joke that I am a boring person – part of it stems from the fact that I am always a little bit awkward or never quite caring for the small talk. And well, a large part of mingling is the “small talk” that I seem to dread, which is quite common for INTJs. And this inability to write more about what I have come to identify this blog with seems to emphasize that, even though it may not necessarily hold true.
With that said, I haven’t the slightest clue as to what it is that I’m supposed to write anymore. I don’t seem to have an identity that I can find myself relating to (and yes I do know that sentences are not to end in prepositions).
It feels like I’m pulling at straws here. Perhaps we best label this misnomer of an identity as one of uncertainty and displacement.
Image via Flickr (user: rbbaird)
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