purpose.

I figured I would post this because it explains the reason why I began blogging, what it has done for me, and what I hope to achieve with it in the future. I wrote this essay for my writing class at college. Before I begin, though, I just want to say that I know I haven't been doing well as far as updates go. Heck, it's been 3 months. I've been in a limbo where I've had so much that I want to write about, but I didn't want to trouble too many people with those things since they were frankly depressing. This last little while has been difficult more me, but looking back on it (and still climbing out of it), none of it really mattered. I just had to suck it up and find my own way to live. That's the part I'm trying to discover right now. So, with that little "status update" out of the way, here is my essay:

The Beginning of My Words

            Anyone can tell you I’m reserved. That’s no secret. If you observe me for a day, you can tell that I tend to put my headphones in or move my fingers across a game controller. At family gatherings, I listen to all the stories and conversations being shared rather than place myself at the center of them. I tend to be on the outside looking in, watching each person that pops into existence as they walk around a street corner, and then fade from reality once they leave the corner of my eye. Lots of information enters into me through my five senses. I contently bathe in these senses each day and wonder what new memories I will make tomorrow.

            How I really feel, though, is a longing to be included in life. I want to feel the social waters encircle me. I wish I could become a foundation in a group of people rather than a fifth wheel. However, I have a problem. I have trouble with expression. My tongue is a tricky tool that likes to rigidify at times, or I’m altogether too shy to even approach that cute girl I keep seeing in the hallway. All these words that I can only feel go unspoken as I continue to sit by myself, viewing the passersby.

            I have always been a decent writer. Writing, unlike speaking, allows one to take time to create feelings into words. The delete button is handy in taking back a thought before it permanently flutters via sound waves. I pay special notice to grammar and spelling so that I may appear as intelligent as I aspire to be. This, to me, was the only way to open the corked bottle so that my imaginations could be made free in a form that could stand on its own and illustrate life as I saw and experienced it.

            I began blogging in September of 2010. I wanted to put myself into physical form, onto a place where I could be seen and understood by others. My first few posts were very rough. I wasn’t sure how to approach this new medium, so I acted flamboyant and over-the-top to get the attention of my friends. It worked for a little bit, but the content was so vivid it made one’s eyes roll as I was blatantly forcing myself to use this façade. I began to explore different approaches. I finally found a nice niche after my summer semester of English class in 2011.

            The assigned reading for the class was a book called Pilgrim at Willow Creek, a book written very similarly to Walden. It tells of a woman visiting her vacation cabin and writing of her experiences there as she bonded with and grew in her understanding of nature writes it. I quite easily put myself in her shoes since the way she gained material for her stories was by sitting and observing. The way she viewed nature helped me expand my own eyes and perceive things differently. One of my favorite blog entries that I wrote took this approach:

            “I was sitting in sacrament meeting today, close to the wall and by myself. No different from any other Sunday. After the closing prayer, a member of the bishopric stood up and began making some announcements. He asked if there were any new faces in the ward, and wanted them to stand up. I got curious and started looking around the congregation. It wasn't the people standing up that suddenly caught my eye, though; instead, close to that person, was a guy sitting down. Chomping his gum. His mouth was flapping open and closed. In the row behind him, a girl was doing the same thing. My eye started catching all these mouth opening and closing, forming large O shapes. I made this connection: I was in a congregation of goldfish.”

I was able to make observations like this and share them with others through my blogging and the example of brilliant writers like the one that wrote Pilgrim at Willow Creek.

            Many aspects of my personality have not changed. I still remain pretty silent and reserved. I continue to play my games and listen to my music. My senses remain open to receiving new sights, smells and feelings. I have learned, however, how to communicate this new information in a format that makes me comfortable and clear. I’m glad that I began blogging so that I had an outlet through which to be myself and help others see who I am. My grandma, for example, after reading a few of my blog entries, said, “Wow! I didn’t know Matthew had so much to say!”

            Well, the truth is, Grandma, I don’t say much.

            But I can write it.