mindwanderings

I’ve kept journals for years for the sole purpose of becoming a better writer. I figure, the more I write, the better I will get. The thing is, writing doesn’t always come easy. Should it? I skim through my journals and find old poetry and rambling thoughts. What use is this for me? I don’t have a definition of “good” set in my mind, but at least I want to be satisfied in my choice of words and sentence structures.

No writing of mine is ever good enough for me. I was part of my school’s literary magazine yet I decided not to publish any of my writings, although I knew that I had complete access to do so. I think every writer is their own worst critic. I’ve always believed, though, that if your writing is honest and from your heart, that’s the best it can be.

I am originally from San Diego and moved to San Francisco to get away from distractions. My goal was to work – read, write, write, write. So far, I don’t feel motivated to write anything, but I think that’s an excuse for that I’m not working hard enough. So far, I feel frustrated at everything and everyone. So far, I’m a bit disappointed that I am not pushing myself to keep on writing, consistently and persistently.

So what exactly do I write about? That’s hard to say; I mainly scribble my thoughts on observations that I see, how I feel when I see it, though lately the pages in my journal seem like a rant. I’m sure they are all about how I can’t seem to get my words together. Don’t be surprised. In fact, I am thinking about trashing this blog in a second.

Despite my pessimistic attitude, I am hopeful that I will improve. As long as I have changed and improved since the beginning, I guess that is all that I ask for. Hopefully this blogging experience will aid me in my endeavor. Maybe I’ll even get back to poetry.

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