Today felt different than other days I’ve had here. There was more creative involvement and it promised more to come in the future. My ever-shifting job description has moved to that of marketing and visual content destined to tell the story of the Australia Studies Centre throughout the year so as to ensure it continues to have a story in semesters to come.
It presents an exciting opportunity to put in more writing consistently than I ever have. A steady stream of visual work will also follow.
I am sure I‘m not the only person to have this thought:
A blog is essentially an online journal. I have been writing this blog for almost two months now. I have also been keeping a handwritten journal on the side. I have never written so much content containing the word “I” in it. I can’t help but think about how selfish this seems. I mean, this would fit so well as a chapter in one of those books titled Stuff Post-Grad-Traveling–White-People Like, “They like to write about their feelings, they chronicle their every life event and post it so the world can see, it makes them feel special.”
I don’t mean to offend anyone else writing a blog or journal or diary or memoir or emotionally influenced recipe book. And now that I’ve made us all self-conscious about every time we use “I” in the future, I’ll try to steer this conversation somewhere more productive.
This is probably less about “blogging” (that word is starting to become sour to me) and more about the life I am blogging about. Perhaps I wished I was part of a story that was more captivating so that I wouldn’t have to keep writing about how my bike tire became flat or about how my host family desecrated perfectly good avocados for dinner last night by mixing them with mayonnaise, (that is not ok) all in an attempt to make it more interesting.
It would be really something if there was a story unfolding all around, waiting to be told. It would be fantastic if the very curtain of the universe was bursting with energy and life that needed only that careful observation of an artist to free it into the light. If anyone is a seasoned journalist or artist of any kind, they might be nodding their heads as if to say, “oh, I remember when I was there.” Thank you for your understanding, hopefully your not just in my head.
I was recently introduced to a song, “Somebody I Used To Know” by Gotye, I was very inspired. (Also, I may or may not have an incurable crush on Kimbra).
However, inspiration for me has usually been a painful experience. The recognition of something beautiful is often followed by a feeling similar to a hot needle piercing my chest. In English we call it “jealousy.” To save you a trip to Webster its defined as, “I wish I could create something like that,” or even, “I’m convinced that that potential for beauty is within me, I’m simply at a loss for how to help it escape.” So it seems that this issue with first person pronoun is in fact an issue with the first person.
As with many thoughts, and more to come, there is no concise answer at the moment. No. Rather I am still,
on the move.