How Is A Blog Not Like A Diary

In a lot of ways, it feels like one, albeit a very public kind. Self-indulgent, hubristic, narcissistic...why do I feel like these meandering musings are worth publishing? I don't have the answer, so no need to skip to the bottom looking for, you know, enlightenment or anything.

For one, I don't have a diary/journal. Maybe this is what I'm using this blog for. I've 'journaled' in the past though, and it's been quite different from what I'm doing now. 'Journaling' (reader, I can't not put this in quotes) always felt super awkward to me until I hit upon the great idea of taking notes of my brain. No longer did I try to create complete sentences; instead, my writing looked like a bubble outline (thanks Ms. Erdei, wherever you are). Of course, anyone looking at it besides me would find little comprehension, which was sort of the point (I retain, to this day, a healthy fear of someone knowing what I truly think). I've gone back to look at these brain notes later on, and they mean little to me too. 'Journaling', at least how I've done it, seems to work best for me as an in the moment process. Something to make immediate sense of inner chaos. 

Note. This is not a post about how to 'journal', or how to write a blog. 

I write these posts  not just to make sense of chaos, but because I want to hold onto a thought for a longer period of time. To see if I discover something along the way. Sometimes I have something in my head that make me giggle every time I think about them, and I really want to share them with you. Sometimes I've been in a super dark place, and reading a blog has allowed me the comfort of a conversational experience, and I wonder if/hope that my writing might provide a momentary comfortable distraction for someone else.

I'll tell you, it provides lots of moments of distraction for me. I learned to touch-type in my adolescence, and my OCD qualities ensured that I would practice at every opportunity. Mostly I could type whatever I was saying quickly enough on my legs that people wouldn't notice. Mostly. Despite the definite lack of coolness this practice bestowed on me, it did forge a link between how I speak and what comes out on a computer keyboard. I could segue into something about the piano keyboard here too, but I'll refrain for the moment.

I don't have any answers, or really any helpful solutions for dealing with 2020. A friend told me years ago that one of the best things we can do for society is simply to be happy. That even if we aren't saving the whales, or working on the frontlines of healthcare, being fulfilled in our lives will make us a positive addition to society. 

This blog allows my brain to focus on something other than 'yes, but what next?' In the act of writing, all I can do is write. I struggle to find the right word, the right narrative arc, to maintain a tone that strikes the right balance of humor and warmth and vulnerability. And this focus on language is what keeps me present. I meditate...well, at least once a week (it's how my therapist starts each session). I yoga most days. I take the anxiety meds, I dose myself with CBD, I get outside frequently. But that tricksy brain of mine isn't so great at being calm, being present, staying with the breath. 

Staying with the words though. That, I can do.