Expression is vanity, I’ve come to conclude.
I’m writing this blog – who for? If it was just for myself, then I’d stick with the paper diary and hide it under something large and unmanageable. So why publish stuff for the public to see? Is it because I believe that for some reason, my life is worth the attention of others? That I am so interesting, so great that I warrant the attention of the general public? Am I under the delusion that my words and worthless wisdom will amount to anything spectacular and world-changing?
I suppose the explanation could that we express ourselves publicly, outwardly if you like, because there is simply not enough room inside the human psyche to deal with all the nonsense swimming around inside our minds. We have to vent, to channel, to bleed out the issue in order to move on and change. Should it matter that it is in public? I would say yes, to an extent. I suppose it is part of the collective experience and consciousness that we as a culture can have these streams of creativity burst forth from ourselves like fantastical light and to do so freely.
I value this freedom above many others – it is beautiful and ours and wonderful.
This would no doubt explain why I do not understand cultures that do not encourage self-expression or even disallow the freedom to do so. Or, if they do, it is completely restricted to those a society ‘approves’ of based on rank, position, wealth, religion or gender. Just plain bonkers in my view, but that’s just me. Everyone should be allowed to free themselves of the spiralling restrictions of self expression and inward creativity.
I think we sometimes feel fit to burst with the bubbling, frothing wonderfulness buried inside us, effervescing under our skin.
Was that a poncey way of explaining it? Perhaps. I’m verbose and have a different way of looking at things. Perhaps in a contrived way, but that’s me I suppose.
Or at least the above is the lie I tell myself to feel justified in writing and wittering on…