What Was This Place?

I'm a little in awe of the me that used to write this site. I was posting almost daily. Full of ideas and, not to sound egotistical, but insights (sometimes). I had so much to say. And looking at the comments, so did all of you. We had a real debate going. We were in something together.

But as with so much of the internet, eventually it becomes an abandoned wasteland. Over a thousand blog posts and they hardly ever get read. How many of the readers forgot this existed? How many of the comments that fascinated me have dropped from my mind?

Everything is impermanent, including this blog. I mean, it still exists here as a relic, but what does it all mean?

Years ago, I had great aspirations for it. I wanted to be a real voice when it came to talking about creativity and independent film. I went out of my way to interview some great people.

Then I don't know what happened. I lost my passion for it, I guess. Hard to say that because so much of what I wrote about here was how to find and nurture your passion. But if you were to follow all my advice maybe you'd have ended up just as burned out as me, which is good for no-one.

Another aspect is that this blog dried up around the time my professional life stepped up a gear. I just don't have the time to write here in the way I used to. My plan was just to step back when the inspiration came. It just never really did. And when a thought did come up, it wasn't exciting enough to write.

I don't know where everyone went. These types of personal blogs died years ago - a few top names survived but generally the total mindfuck of social media and hyper-prolific gossip blogs trashed people's attention spans. Sure, you might like to read a blog like this, but you're unlikely to even be able to find it. Especially as the lifeblood of blogging was the community -- we'd read each other's blogs, comment, and share. But after Twitter, it became a crapshoot. Sure I may have over a thousand followers but if I share your post or mine, maybe two people will follow the link. Twitter promises much but often delivers little.

The audience went and so did my creativity. I look back on all this fondly, and am nostalgic for the day I was a little more naive and yes, a little more freely creative. I'd just open up the page and words would come out.

If any of you find this post, I hope you're doing well - in your creativity but most importantly, in your life.

Where You Are

Outside of expectation, of notions of what matters - away from the idea of who you think you should be and what that person should say -- somewhere there is where you reside and that's where you're playful fanciful crazy alive anything goes you. 

Like a mixture of sad songs that only you know, a pick n' mix of feelings you didn't know you had and places you didn't know you wanted to see. You exist as a blank canvas, and the world can paint you any way it wants and vice versa. 

Let go of what could should might maybe be and you're left with what is. And what is has never been the is before, so who cares how you paint it. It's brand new and it's you. 

You're that live gig no-one recorded, you just had to be there. You're that in-joke between friends. You're the play performed in front on nine people. You're the mix tape that only one person heard. You're the short story some kid wrote and stashed in the draw. You're anything and anything and anything and if you forget, for a second, the idea of being judged, reviewed or approved, then what would come out of you? If the likes and comments didn't matter, you'd go back to being the you you started out being, where all that mattered were the things that mattered. 

What matters isn't the reviews. What you think of what I'm writing isn't what's important, what's important is that I wrote it.