Back when she was going through hard times, I used to tell her that it's unhealthy for one to bottle up all their emotions and thoughts up. "Venting is a natural thing, it helps us cope" I used to say to say to her.
And really, who likes to sit there with all their problems, thoughts, and worries shoved up inside of them? No one. It doesn't matter if you're worrying about paying the bills, or if you have a date for prom, or if you have cancer. I'd say that you lie if you say you don't feel the need to vent once in a while. Some take more traditional routes, like writing. Others express what they feel through music. Others push themselves at the gym or on the trail. But the most of us talk, whether it be to friends, family, counselor, teacher, therapist, or that random attentive person you met on the train.
And really, who likes to sit there with all their problems, thoughts, and worries shoved up inside of them? No one. It doesn't matter if you're worrying about paying the bills, or if you have a date for prom, or if you have cancer. I'd say that you lie if you say you don't feel the need to vent once in a while. Some take more traditional routes, like writing. Others express what they feel through music. Others push themselves at the gym or on the trail. But the most of us talk, whether it be to friends, family, counselor, teacher, therapist, or that random attentive person you met on the train.
"So, vent" I used to tell her. You keep all those feeling bottles up and they become prone to exploding in a brilliant champagne supernova in the sky. Come a couple years later, and I find my self bottling up everything. One can only post so many ambiguous Facebook status's hinting at the despair they feel. One can listen to OK Computer so many times to find something they can relate to. I needed to vent. Problem is, I don't know anyone that I could fully vent to about everything without feeling weird about it, or without facing consequences for it later. Or maybe I'm just uncomfortable with opening up to people in that manner. Who knows.
All I know is that my problems are stupid and pretentious compared to a child in Africa or the president of the United States, but that piece of knowledge doesn't help dull the 'bad feeling' no matter how much I try to convince my self otherwise.
So, I found twitter. It was awesome. There were hundreds of thousands of people constantly micro-blogging, or tweeting if you will, about everything and anything. It was like standing on top of the Empire State Building and yelling out all your secrets. Obviously, anyone could listen if they wanted to, but who would? In a city of millions of people with millions of problems, you voice just drowns out. I sort of liked it. I felt I was being upfront about the things i wanted to say, without having anyone actually have to know about them. Stupid faulty logic.. (people ended up reading my tweets and interrogating me about them).
Of course, after a while, Twitter made it to the big leagues, and everyone and their grandmother was soon tweeting their stupid catch-phrases and inside-joke quotes. It be be douchebaggery at it's finest to impose the deep, chaotic, insensible working and ideas of my mind upon those people. So I stopped the tweeting. At least the vent-blog-therapy-tweeting.
I wrote for a little while. Just would pick up a pen and write what ever came to hand. That felt good. Sometimes i would just lose awareness and this subconscious part of me would start writing. That got freaky. I shuddered at the thought of anyone reading that stuff, so I burnt it all. Don't go looking for it. You will die.
Music, specifically the guitar has been and remains a way for me to vent ever since I started to play it. Love it. It's the best thing I ever picked up. But again, with my severely limited musical knowledge, I can only do so much.
It didn't help that i always had all these thoughts and ideas floating in my head that just needed to escape, to be recorded, and kept safe. I knew i didn't want to write them, not on paper at least. And so we arrive here. I've been reading a couple blogs for a while know (most notably the work of Dr. Ifinding), so the idea of starting my own isn't something that was spontaneous or new. So here we are. Hopefully I'll keep this up.
I hope it can serve not only as a way for me to vent, but also to just record my thoughts and ideas, keep a way to track my progress, and eventually reflect.
Of course, after a while, Twitter made it to the big leagues, and everyone and their grandmother was soon tweeting their stupid catch-phrases and inside-joke quotes. It be be douchebaggery at it's finest to impose the deep, chaotic, insensible working and ideas of my mind upon those people. So I stopped the tweeting. At least the vent-blog-therapy-tweeting.
I wrote for a little while. Just would pick up a pen and write what ever came to hand. That felt good. Sometimes i would just lose awareness and this subconscious part of me would start writing. That got freaky. I shuddered at the thought of anyone reading that stuff, so I burnt it all. Don't go looking for it. You will die.
Music, specifically the guitar has been and remains a way for me to vent ever since I started to play it. Love it. It's the best thing I ever picked up. But again, with my severely limited musical knowledge, I can only do so much.
It didn't help that i always had all these thoughts and ideas floating in my head that just needed to escape, to be recorded, and kept safe. I knew i didn't want to write them, not on paper at least. And so we arrive here. I've been reading a couple blogs for a while know (most notably the work of Dr. Ifinding), so the idea of starting my own isn't something that was spontaneous or new. So here we are. Hopefully I'll keep this up.
I hope it can serve not only as a way for me to vent, but also to just record my thoughts and ideas, keep a way to track my progress, and eventually reflect.
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