Wednesday, 24 February 2010

This little blog of mine in a forest of much bigger blogs....

I've always loved writing. Not being particularly good at it has never put me off either. I used to jot anything and everything down, in cheap notebooks, on blocks of A4 lined paper from Woolworths, the back pages of my school exercise books.I kept diaries religiously, writing into the wee hours of the night with exact and therefore incredibly boring details of who said what on the bus to school that morning.
Reading them now makes me want to sandpaper my eyeballs.
I was a closeted spotty muslim girl, whose life rotated around dreaming of being more popular, more beautiful, more free.

Nowadays, those dog eared notebooks have morphed into this blog, in the same way that Ive morphed into someone more happier about herself. Happy enough to let other people read abit about her, happy enough to feel comfortable in her own skin and go out into the world with it.
And when the passing blogestrian, the friend,the colleague or relative, reads the mental blurt-out of what amuses me, makes me ponder, makes me annoyed, Im always fighting the need to pack it all in and go back to keeping my thoughts in a shoebox under my bed, strictly for my sandpapered eyeballs only.
All I know is that my anonymous readership, those who leave comments and those who dont, those who acknowledge it, ignore it, forget about it, do whatever they want with it, it all makes me feel more present in the world. Despite the awkwardness, the worry that my presence lacks merit of some kind.That there are other bloggers who do it far better than me. Making my posts visible on Facebook for instance, whilst it does leave me feeling like I've just walked into a convention for Farmville enthusiasts in my pyjamas, It helps me fight my demons of unworthiness.

You know that age old question -If a tree falls in a forest and noone is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
I ask myself the same thing about my blog. If there is noone to read it, if what is better, more popular, more fun, continue to make me wonder What am I doing here?, is it still worth doing? Can my voice still be heard?

Ill always feel like running off into a corner and hiding under a blanket everytime I press the publish button. Ill always get that nagging feeling that my friends and family on Facebook may not want to have 'Khairun's feelings' thrown into their face,(image of me in pyjamas and saying 'I need a hug'in said Farmville convention springs to mind) But there is a stronger part of me that is doing a sort of grassroots appeal for more genuine, human, meaningful dialogue online, particularly on social networking sites.

But anyhow. Thats me.

Enough of the blogging. I have a baby nearby babbling away. He certainly knows how to make his voice heard. Perhaps I should take a few lifelessons from him.

Have a lovely day!


Flower Girl said...

Whenever I feel like glossing over my insecurities or unhappiness in my posts, I am inspired by the honesty of your blog. You really seem to put it all out there time after time. For me, being able to see each day or week published makes me remember that life is a journey. That there are waves of sadness and happiness that come and go.
I appreciate your blog for all of that. And the story of how you watched the same program on tv over and over without realizing it after Isaac was born - well, that pops into my mind as one of those wonderful, honest moments. That story is one of my favs. :)
x kate

Pedro Santos said...

Hello Khairun,

This is Pedro, your student. Had to drop by to check out your blog. I've subscribed to the feed, so you now have another reader.

BTW, the blog we talked about in class, is this one: Emma's House in Portugal.

Mónica said...

Hi Khairun. Here's my opinion about this: we have te right to express ourselves, in words, in paintings, in photos (like i'm doing these days) or in whatever we wish. We always want to be "better, faster, stronger", and it might slaves us sometimes.
Once in a while a think about the tings i wanted to do, to be or to have. And then i think about some other people who are in worse condition than me. That makes me be thankfull for being who i am and be happy about my archievements.
I allways try to be happy with myself. If others dont't like, is their problem. Even Jesus was a good guy, and there where some that did't liked him. Take care. :)