March 1, 2007 § 6 Comments

I know I haven’t climbed Mount Everest or anything, but I remain chuffed about this minor milestone.  Having come through the experience of complete writer’s block not that long ago, I am still immensely grateful for and slightly amazed by every word.  Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever take them for granted again. 

So, onward…

The last few weeks have had the lopsided feel of a transition period, which I’ve used to reorganize both my physical and virtual spaces.  For me, these kinds of projects always have an element of ritual, which stems from the question: what do I still want close to me?  The process was suitably cathartic this time around, and ended with me carrying bagsful of the detritus of the past several years out to a snow-covered curb.   

The blog move was a part of this larger transition, and it has mirrored the unclenching of my work life in interesting ways.  There’s a sense of having made a fresh start, and with it, of being ready to encounter new possibilities.  It’s something like moving into a more spacious apartment, except in this instance space is a clumsy metaphor for time.  In this incarnation of The Smoking Section, I’ll have considerably more of it to write in, which I hope will have a liberating effect on the act of writing itself.

More and more, I find I’m drawn to blogs that are fiercely autobiographical, and particularly to those that strive to express the self in ways that resonate on the level of feeling.  At moments, I can feel surges of empathy as I read along, and, in the case of a special few, a growing sense of kinship.  I’m liking this form of relating, and I’m starting to understand how much I need it right now.  Which, I remind myself, is exactly as it should be.

A while back, Me: The Sequel wrote a brilliant retort to Michael Keren, the author who foolishly opined that bloggers are “isolated” and “lonely”.  In her post, she describes those of us who are compelled to blog as having “an insatiable hunger for meaningful connection, both with others and themselves.”   Her words have stayed with me like a melody, which is the surest sign that they’re true.

§ 6 Responses to 502

  • tornwordo says:

    The connecting part is the biggest reward I’ve found.

  • husk says:

    Agreed. I’m more in the “autoanalytical” genre though… it just sounds that much more pretentious!

  • Vila H. says:


    husk–Y’think? ;-)

  • Frank says:

    It seems this year has been one of transition so far. Last year seemed to have quite a melancholy feel.

    I’ve always been conflicted on the autobiographical front. I’ve always thought readers were/are interested in my observations and not so much about me. I’ve been concerned about becoming an obsessive navel-gazer rambling on about hour-by-hour life. I keep thinking about that guy who would post about what he was going to watch on TV that night. On the flip side, I have this deep yearning to tell everyone who I am and how I got here. I suppose it’s a ying and yang thing that keeps the whole thing in balance. See, here I am rambling about myself again.

  • Vila H. says:

    Frank: Actually, I quite enjoy your rambling, and I would hazard a guess that others do too.

    I suppose it is about balance, ultimately, and also about writing from a standpoint that feels comfortable. For me, though, it’s altogether too easy to retreat into my comfort zones, which sometimes means that I withhold more of myself than I need to. I’d think I’d like to try to push against my own boundaries just a little bit more, without, hopefully, becoming an insufferable prat in the process.

    That aside, I’d like to hear more about who you are and how you got here. Trust me, you’re good material. :-)

  • […] my recent closet-cleaning frenzy, I found a CD-R of pictures that John and I took nearly ten years ago.  I was researching […]

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