I’m no stranger to blogging. I think this is attempt number four, or maybe number five, I genuinely don’t even remember. I’m aware that sounds rather off putting, but hear me out. Please.
Life’s been a bit of a dick really. And I’m also a bit too lazy. Busy, and motivated at what I love, but lazy when it comes to blogging. I’ve always written down my thoughts on random scraps of paper or in the notes on my phone. But the thought of blogging has always been alien to me. I never understood why you’d effectively have your diary online, for everyone to read.
The third time I tried this blogging malarkey I broke through that stage and felt at ease doing it. For a few months, it was fine, and then I caved again. It wasn’t that I was concerned about what I had written and who could see it, it was how over-reliant I had become on having a blog and what it was doing to me. It went from a way of remembering to a form of therapy, an unhealthy and twisted form of self-reassurance that at it’s worse had me blogging almost everyday towards the end.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that frequent a blog, it just wasn’t right for me and it was making me noticeably ill keeping up with it. So I jacked it in, kept myself to myself for a bit and went back to my more traditional methods. A year or so has passed, as has one more blog – this one not about me, moreso something I was involved in, a project – and I feel ready to commit, to be sensible, to have a blog.
My 2013 up till now has been full of so much wonder, excitement, sorrow and regret, it’s changed me into someone who is stronger and far more resilient than the Aaron I was 12 months ago. And with my final year of Uni approaching, and real life just around the corner, I want to start something to remember one of the best times I’ll ever have in my life.
See, isn’t that optimistic?