Okay today is the day! If I do not blog today i will stand in front of the fellowship and ask them to pray for me to fulfill divine purpose. Now that’s an ultimatum. Sheepish grin.(i lied. after typing this on my phone for so long, i left it as draft on WordPress since sept7 but today is the day!) Now I’ll move on to the confession part, just not to the pair of eyes I’ll find in the fellowship but to some WordPress strangers some of whom I feel I know so intimately though they don’t know me. See, I’ve been reading blogs for a while. I’ll say I really started from Afoma’s blog. I’ve read and read blogs. Then, I took a little push, incentive and opened a blog of my own. Eh. I posted something then regretted it, the normalcy of it, the averageness of it. Compared to posts here I didn’t express enough, nothing unique to draw you in.(really eveyday i keep finding great posts). I battled the desire to delete mine. No I will cling to my first WordPress post ever. When this is a decent enough blog with friends, I will cringe in embarrassment hoping nobody would scroll down enough to find the post. But then on an act of impulse, I’ll post the link to the post because come what may, it was my first post online and not in the confines of my diary hence it deserves respect.
Now I refuse to be that servant. You know, the servant. The one in luke 19: 20ff. The one who gave the same excuses I’m giving. The one who didn’t use what he was given.
“And another came, saying, Lord, behold, here is thy pound, which I have kept laid up in a napkin.”
no more excuses. Yes, I know my room is a place that doesn’t allow internet connection except at night ( strange queen Idia hall).Yes, I know there are just much more blog post to read, interesting posts from others.
see what I wrote sometimes last week about writing or rather my not writing:
” I feel I have so much impression and I can’t express it. I look around, ready stories bubbling, sputtering but as I try to express I remember the many I never finished, I remember my lean body of description compared to better writers and I fumble a bit then close off. I know, I could see the many disapproving glances you shoot me, the stinging encouraging words you hurl at me. I know. Really I do. I am just telling you how I feel about now.”
Now I would blog, not like an organized blogger of a sort. Nada. I’ll blog as I please. I will write because I am a writer. I own my blog anyway