The Circle of Nonconformist Bloggers

Manet, the notorious badass of the Salon des Refusés

Manet, the notorious badass of the Salon des Refusés.

After about 3 months of avoiding my blog, I finally decided, while avoiding my daily responsibilities, to just hold my breath and return to take a look at the neglected landscape.  When I signed in, I found the below pending comment on my dashboard:

I discovered your blog while googling about underachieving, and you have inspired me to go ahead with starting a blog. I didn’t think people actually blogged like regular literature authors and always felt I lacked in edgy hipness, but after reading all of your poetic posts, I feel like I may have fellow anti- conformist bloggers to relate to after all.  -Bessie Malt

I originally began writing a reply to your comment, Bessie, in the comment section where you’re supposed to write replies to comments.  But as is typical for me, my reply became longer and longer and I kept writing and couldn’t cut off the spigot and had no desire to anyway.  So I ultimately drafted a 683-word response and decided to post it as a blog entry in itself.  

At any rate, I’m so glad I took an ADD-driven diversion from half-ass job searching to take a look at the blog that I’ve been neglecting in the first place because of chronic ADD.  (And all of this is merely reflective of my underachiever complex.)  You have no idea how much your feedback interjects the tiniest but most potent bit of meaning in my dejected day, and in my writing life—which, really, is the whole entire part of my life that has any meaning whatsoever.  A reader out there read through my tedious rambling confessional dross and seems to “get” what I’m doing…Or, what I’d be doing more of if I weren’t such a bum.  More than that, she somehow finds my pseudo-literary diarrhea to be an inspiration for her own writing.  (And also, I love how you presented me as a “nonconformist” rather than an underachiever.)

When I started this shitty blog, I felt compelled like you to follow the formula and use a lighthearted tone and be very very snappy and to the point; but that’s just not me.  I don’t feel like I’m doing justice to my style or to all of the tortuous thoughts winding through my mind like invasive weeds when I try to write about my deep-seated and rootless sadness and alienation and isolation and confusion . . . and hunger. . . and all those other heavy melodramatic themes in the same snappy way someone would write about last night’s Girls episode.   So I gave up resisting and gave into my own writerly impulse to just write the way it feels good for me.

For the last several months, as you can see, my posts have become even more sporadic than they were to begin with.  Consistent with the character of an unmotivated depressive who never finishes things, I’ve accumulated on my hard drive tons of half-written blog posts, undeveloped pseudo-essays, and journal entries that turned into blog entries that ultimately remained hidden in my journal.  None of it ever made it my inconspicuous corner of the interwebs, either because I decided it was too ridiculous or embarrassing to post; or because I didn’t review it after finishing it because I was afraid I would decide it’s too ridiculous or embarrassing to post; or because I didn’t ever write the last sentence of the last paragraph after I got up to make another cup of coffee and let the dog out.

But upon discovering your long-ignored, lone comment that’s been sitting in my queue next to links to the websites of online pharmacies and SEO specialists and lots and lots of smut, I feel a tiny bit validated for ignoring the writing rules and doing whatever the fuck I want.  Just to find out that my shit blog does actually speak to someone even though it may lack substance and reads like a purple prose nightmare is enough to rouse me—again, just a little—from the ever-present haze surrounding me.  I’ve been struck with one of those ephemeral waves of clarity and inspiration that I get when I feel a runner’s high after walking myself to death during one of my sanity walks, and I need to finish all that ridiculous half-written stuff on my hard drive before the feeling fades and I go back to feeling like shit as usual again.

So I want to thank you, Bessie, for leaving the most motivating comment at the most opportune time which spurred me out of the most recent of my recurrent lapses of my writing self.  I really hope our small (like, 2 people) circle of nonconformist bloggers will be more vocal for now on.

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2 thoughts on “The Circle of Nonconformist Bloggers

  1. There is nothing like honest writing. So much of what is out there is just filler. Yes, I stayed up late into the night reading your blog and visiting your world. Complicated people leading simple lives are the most interesting. I don’t care to read about someone’s adventures or travel crap; I want to know what is going on inside someone’s head, the stuff that veers off the road and out of Happyland. Reading about cats protecting you from snakes under your floor and the ravenous raid of your parents’ kitchen is writing that pulls me in. I like knowing that there are people out there that don’t feel like they have to be doing something profound all the time. The human condition inspires creativity like nothing else.

  2. Pingback: The Nonconformist | My Life In Color

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