This one has been the one that has given me the most thought of the final three. I knew what “today in parliament would be” and I had a basic construct of “the epilogue” but the national anthem, that one has troubled. I figured it out after waking up from the nap that I just woke up from, in short I figured it out five minutes ago. If you want to split hairs you can say this is improvising on my part but it really isn’t.
|For those of you intent on splitting hairs|
So yesterday I had a conversation with a guy who ridiculed my blogging, not the first and won’t be the last. People have a funny impression of bloggers and a lot of the misconceptions come from those who pay too much attention to shows like gossip girl. This is a theory, because I have not watched gossip girl, granted in a moment of weakness I actually thought about it, what can I say I was bored. Anyway the main point of the conversation was why do you blog. I’m not someone who people want to sit down and read his every thought like my father. And I’m not a thirteen year old girl talking about celebrity gossip. So why do you blog?
I’m quite the charismatic thinker, so the moment I thought of this I immediately pictured myself standing on a rooftop in some African warrior attire, with the Rambo polish under my eyes, can’t leave that out, beating my chest and banging my drum simultaneously telling the world why I write. It’s not a poem, it’s not a song. Its words, it’s my National anthem
|I would be the guy in front, just of a negroid persuasion|
I write because I can, I write because I should. It helps keep me in check because I frequently put my thoughts down somewhere, not just on the blog. I keep track of who I was and what I want to be through what I write and what I wrote. I write to tell everyone what is important to me, I write to tell them in my own weird way how much of a mess it is in my head and yet I am willing to use my hopelessness for Gods cause and he is more than willing to take my poor something and turn into something more.
I write not for the fame or the prestige, in all likelihood I will not get it. I write not to have my name exalted or thought of more. I write not to look like a deep thinker because I’m not, I’m actually quite stupid. I make the same mistakes over and over and over again and yet because God keeps picking me up I can’t help but tell someone something. I write not to speak of me, I write to speak of him through me. If all you see in what I write is me then I have messed up, really messed up. I write because unlike words that fade away these remain in the collective, stagnant, waiting to be used for me or against me. These words that remain up there long after my voice has faded in sleep, silence or death will be there to remind me of who I am and who I was.
I write because to some extent I am driven by my passion. I try not to let it control me but every once in a while it does. My passion for my God and my passion for my country. My passion that leads me to write about what’s wrong and what’s right. Leads me to write about how people conclude too fast or sometimes think too little. All this is my opinion but I write because I have a message for the collective that I want them to know and me sitting in my quiet corner of the world does nothing for that. I could watch the world rot and scoff or I can do what I can, I can write.
I write because this is my journey, my journal of my Journey in Cyprus. I write because I figure this is not the end but merely a chapter of my life. I write because I want to savour these moments that I have had over here, the words will help me remember the time. The words will refresh the memory, the words will pain the heart and drive it on to do more. If I ever become complacent I will look back on the thoughts of a younger me and be ashamed. If I go from strength to strength I will look back on the thoughts of a younger me and nod with approval.
|As I look back later on in life, I wonder what I will see|
I write to help others but I especially write to help me. Because I know I am weak and I constantly need reminding. Every time I put my hands to the keyboard I come to a burning realisation of my flaws and my falls. There are times when I want to write and I know that my life has not been what I want to write and this is a burden that has brought me back to my lord in prayer many a time. I write to let those I speak to rarely know what’s happening with me. I write for many reasons but as I stand here on a roof top, granted a proverbial one, rhythmically beating my chest and my drum, granted a metaphorical drum, the main reason why I write is because I have a deep desire in me to speak of my God and whether you listen and read or not, I’m not sure, but because he has done so much for me… How can I not write?