The other day, I thought of challenging myself to write every day this year. I did that in 2011 and that was when fellow bloggers added me up and commented on my posts. Before, I never thought of blogging as something that could become like an obsession in self-expression. My early entries were all about survival – about health, about attitude towards life itself, about faith but above all, it was about almost a year of being tied at home. My days were spent on the road going to and from the hospital, seeing several doctors, having those much dreaded lab tests and always the nervous waiting at the ambulatory care unit for more sessions of chemotherapy. That alone taxes one’s strength. I thank God for miracles and blessings – I am a survivor!
I read the comments some of my blogger friends posted lately and I am greatly touched that at one time in their lives, they were somehow inspired by some posts here. Particular mention goes to Kay who said that she found my blog at a most trying time in her life back in 2013. May I quote you here Kay? “I believe that it’s heaven’s hands at work when I found you and the blog! Thank you for reading my words too.” As bloggers, we always look forward to the time that we get noticed in the cyberworld. Never mind that there are more gifted writers out there and you could never compare yourself to them.
Writing is addictive, do you agree? There is that certain euphoria, a sudden lift of joy from the heart as soon as your pen begins to touch the pristine pages in front of you or at the moment you position your fingers on the keyboard and form the first sentence. You dream of course that some people would find and notice you but what really is more fulfilling is you are attuned with your feelings and your thoughts are like small jewels that come unbidden and you smile like crazy because you have started a dream. Sometimes, you just stare at the blank page or at the white screen in front of you and wonder what you will write about – then you write about “writing” because you feel comfortable sharing your thoughts. Blogging blues you might say but the euphoria is still there.
I promised myself that 2015 would be my “reading year” and fifty books to read would probably be enough. One book a week would not be bad. Have I told you that I have a draft on the list of books I read last year? It was never updated because I got tired of listing one more book as soon as I finished it. The excitement continues, turn the page and be lost in it.
Good luck with your fifty books Arlene. It is a worthy task you have set yourself.
Best wishes from England, Pete.
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Hi Pete, we’ll see if I can make it 🙂
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There is so much that goes into blogging: it helps us sort out our own thoughts and issues. It allows us to connect with and inspire others…. Blogging is a wonderful way to connect and form community. I used to blog every day, and then cut back of necessity. I wouldn’t feel like you HAVE to blog daily, especially if that ends up causing you stress and taking away from time you honestly need for other things. But if you can manage it, it’s a lot of fun and very rewarding (in my experience as well as yours)
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Thanks for your kind words Victoria. As for everyday blogging, yes, there are times when it is stressful but as long as you enjoy writing snippets of everything….it’s a joy. I joined WordPress’ Daily Post last 2011 and it was fun, finished it with more than just 365 blog post.
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I thought the same! All the best 🙂
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Thanks 🙂
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we had the same thought, Arlene 🙂 only not everyday for me. i challenged myself to post at least once a week – a favorite photo, prayer, quotation or what not. see what happens 🙂 🙂
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It’s always our call how and where we want to take blogging, it is just not complete when I can’t visit WordPress for long.
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Thank you for the mention Ate Arlene.😀 heartwarming❤️ I feel that in a way, our blogs grow with us. Even when we don’t consciously chronicle the journey, our posts echoes the paths. I guess this is why I keep blogging.
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You’re welcome Kay. I feel that too. My blog has evolved somehow through the years.
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