Earlier this month I moved to an anonymous blog, my invisibility cloak. The post below was my first blog post for the new blog. Then I realized that if I never had the courage of facing my writing regardless of how juvenile it may sound, I would never have the courage to get seriously published. So here goes nothing.
The Last Deathly Hallow
Sometimes I feel like everyone else believes in me, but I just don’t believe in myself. Last week, three people told me my writing was actually worth their time. I’ve never met them beyond the realms of Blogosphere, and somehow their opinion is oddly reassuring. Friends and family may never tell you can’t put words right, but absolute strangers have no fear of breaking your heart- they may never see the pain.
It takes some serious courage (Gryffindor level) to pick up that Godric’s Sword and start writing. Those rivers of ink you just etched probably only mean something to you; but are they worth making public? For someone who has lived her life without ever having serious arguments with anyone, I know that I’ve probably never expressed my opinions in public. I’m just not a confrontational sort of person. I’m the kind that says “You have your opinion; I have mine– but there’s no reason that you should know what I think”.
Somehow I always find myself questioning my opinions, and that’s probably a good thing because I put myself in another’s place and try to see things from their perspective– generally concluding that if I had the same circumstances, I would have thought the same.
But then as Winston Churchill put it:
You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.
And that’s where the problem lies. Is it a life worth living? To always be the nice girl, the perfect lamb. I mean I like Confucius, and thought he had the right idea about filial piety. But I would never like to live in a land so stable that all its thinkers and thoughts were monochromatic. That would be one horribly flawed democracy.
Instead a mosaic of thoughts and opinions make Planet Earth an exciting place to live in. After all, I don’t think Galileo would’ve been famous, if like me he’d said “Hmm, all my scientific evidence points towards the fact that the Earth is not the center of the universe. But the Church can think whatever they want, the world doesn’t need to know what I think”. Some serious progress that would have been -_-. Then again, he did get killed.
So maybe I’m just a coward. And there’s no Potter bone in my body. If I was in Umbridge’s class, I would probably have never told “lies”. I would have probably met her in Office Hours, or Hogwarts’ equivalent and asked her if she could teach us something more challenging against Dark Forces, some psychoanalysis, and a subtle mention of Voldemort. See where I’m going with this?
A Wormtail existence never did anybody any good.
But I digress. Self-Deprecation was never my intention for this blog post. I wanted it to be more on the lines of corrective introspection. So as I begin this journey towards a nonconformist angst- an existential dread arising from an awareness of free choice, an anonymous blog is my shimmering invisibility cloak.