When I Look Into Your Eyes, You’re Not Even There

[Just A Feeling – Maroon 5]

Having a glance over my most popular searches and blog views, it turns out that the post I made years back about Jack’s tutoring in Springvale still seems to get the most traffic. I went to his classes in Yr 12, and I remember in the first year of Uni I was actually emailing people his contact number, but then I changed my phone and lost his number, so I mostly ignored the messages asking me for his number after that.

Is that all I will be remembered for, after all the people who knew me properly are gone? Will the only thing linked to my name (of sorts) end up being my post about how a smart middle-aged man who taught me Maths made a kinda-pretty-sexist joke?

When I told my parents I wanted to be a writer, they said, “Are you going to write the next Harry Potter?” ┬áNo, this isn’t a post about the pressures my parents put on me (that’s for another, longer night), but more about why I don’t try! Why not try to write the next Harry Potter? It may sound really idealistic, but if I just went ahead and not did it, I would miss out on the chance that I may actually be able to do it! There are thousands of writers who write constantly (and incredibly well), only to fall flat and end up at a job that they never wanted, and I could well be one of them, but who is to say I’m also not one of the writers who get published and noticed?

And, if all else fails, I should probably write a fan-fiction of a hugely popular series, change things around, then BOOM a movie will be made within the year!

I just want myself to matter, to make some sort of remark in this world. Yes, in a hundred years, everyone who ever knew me would be dead, so who the hell cares? And even if I do go down in history the way household names such as Shakespeare, Einstein, or even Rowling did, the world is just a temporary tangible mound of atoms, and it’s still not going to matter once those atoms disperse. But still, it feels good to matter. It feels good now, whenever I watch or read something that a friend wrote, and it mentions my name or something I did, because it means that my actions had some impact on someone else, and that they were thinking of me at a point in time. So it would feel even better if something I did is attributed to an entire field of conversation, such as that I changed the way someone or someones think about an issue, or that I was the inspiration for future sources of inspirations. Then, it would feel infinitely better (even if I’m dead), when a hundred years from now, students complain about having to study me at school.

For now, I think I’ll strive for being an inspiration and turning point in someone’s life. I think if I can influence just one person, my time wouldn’t have been wasted.

Tomorrow I should be going out to eat a chicken wing buffet, so at least I can have something to talk about. I PROMISE I won’t write about myself tomorrow, at least.


5 Months

Just a quick note. I was going through my old blogs today trying to find exactly when I started blogging frequently. That was 4 months ago, tomorrow. But 5 months ago, I wrote a blog about my holidays, my birthday included, and I wrote a line apologizing for my lack of updates to “April, my one and only reader”.

5 months, and that is no longer the case. Well, first of all, April hardly reads this anymore, because she doesn’t have internet. Secondly, I’ve actually managed to meet 3 people through my blog. And thirdly, I had less than 100 hits back in July, and now I’m soaring at the mid 4000’s.

5 months. I read through a few blogs from the days in between, starting from August 18th, when I first read Dani’s blog and was inspired by it. A lot has changed. It was interesting to read about when I didn’t know better, or when something hasn’t happened. I feel that I’ve accomplished something. Especially the difference in the blog where I cursed at my own inability to support my friend, and the knowledge now that I have done so, very sufficiently.

Damn, this wasn’t a quick note at all.

Keepin’ Cool,

/edit CRAP! We’re not in December are we? Okay, so it’s been SIX months since my hits have been in the 100’s, and FIVE months since I started blogging frequently. Oh this is embarrassing.

Waking The Past

Yesterday and today, 3 people who I haven’t spoken to in a while suddenly struck up conversation again. They ranged from a guy who I was friends with in Thailand, 10 years ago, who now lives in Canada, to someone I saw back in July.

Talking to all three of them, it actually surprised me how much they’ve changed. The 2nd person, girl from my old school, now have dreams and things that she wants to do, and when she was telling me this, I realized that I could actually give proper advice and voice mature opinions (she’d said herself that I’ve matured from the little silly “Homer” (in joke) that I was before). The Canadian guy is really easy to get along with, which was surprising because when I was younger he was a bit of an outcast. I don’t think he really remembers much about those days but now, he’s a pretty cool guy who made the effort to contact me and talk to me again. Finally, the guy from back in July and I talked a lot about personal issues, and he really made me realize that not all guys are pricks (he said so himself, and now I believe him) and I was wrong about the way I’d viewed him. I used to think he was strange, but now maybe that strange is not so bad.

All three of them said that I have opinions and views that are really different from the way the people they usually hang out with think. So that proves I’m strange as well. Strangeness is good.

So now I think that I should maybe revisit some past ghosts, reopen some cold cases, so to speak. Even if I may have ended things on a bad note with them, or have grown distant and cold, it might still be worth it.

I’m really proud that I have such a stable view of myself, and I am sure about what my personality is. I am proud to be able to tell people about my friends, and I am very proud when they tell me that I’ve matured. At least I’m not brainless.

De Fluffe, Out.