Why not?

I read. A Lot. Much more than I would admit. I loath the day that my hands are empty while waiting for the bus or train or tram. I am that sort of person who collects pamphlets about HIV and STDs to read for the sake of reading.

Fast forward to evaluating how much I write. Not that much I would say. I remember the years when I actually kept a paper journal with lined pages smelling like bleach and wood. Those days were the days when I empty out cartridges of ink from my trusty pen twice a week.

I used to write. TONS. I used to write. TRUST ME.

I mean I still do write. After all, I blog don’t I? But comparatively, I don’t write as much as I once did. Partly because I am often censoring what I am putting up here.

Don’t act all surprised. I have actually written about censoring before here. So you have been warned, don’t sulk and stamp your teeny foot like some little child.

Now you must be wondering why on earth am I chiding you and where am I going with this monologue? I ask for your patience.

I often share my joy in this space. Misery loves company, I know, but I do not feel that you have to shoulder the burden I carry in my lonelier moments. I try to remove the ‘who’ and the ‘what’. I put away my accusations because the accused may only be truly accused from my viewpoint and not from yours. So I write less, for I refuse to write what is not glorious.

Recently, I broke my little golden rule when I wrote about things that are a tad bit more personal here and here. And I wonder, if this is a good direction to go with this little-space-on-the-internet-that-I-call-mine. Should I be refraining myself from sharing too many little tidbits? On the other hand, this is my space to say what I want, so why should I be afraid or embarrassed to pen the thoughts that I entertain in my quieter moments?

There are many other bloggers out there. And I know that I am not alone. One blog that I frequently read does not censor its’ contents, choosing only to censor the people allows to access. Famous and well-known blogs often allow public access, only to censor information that are sensitive or private. But there are blogs that readily admit debts, abortions, abuse, deceit and stuff of disappointments that I would readily sweep under the rug and forget about.

In all honesty, I really like to be the kind of an open book that other people are. Even though I live my life shrouded in mystery, I prefer to be able to tell you what happened the other day. What I believe I am unable to do is to explain to you my disappointments and frustrations. And face up to your judgements. Is it something that I need to subject myself to? Am I ready to explain the way I feel without being frustrated at why you don’t seem to see my point? Can I burden you with my minor and nonsense thoughts?

And then I thought, ‘BLAH’ why should I corner myself with so many thoughts. Some epiphany also came to me through a very touching post that someone else wrote. So the next time I have that teeny little feeling of needing to censor what I have been wanting to tell you, dear friends and wayward readers, I will ask myself, ‘Why not’.