Triggered by my friend‘s question months ago while coronavirus was still not a big deal (in our country), I opened my WordPress account again after ages. To be asked why didn’t I write in here again left a lingering curiosity upon my own decision.
Initially, my absence of writing activities (hence, online blogging) came from inability to have such luxury. For last two years (almost), I may cannot cram another agenda into my day, in which, I don’t think that’s the case. I actually manage to make few long post on my Medium for urgent mental need with certain momentum. I can think deeply and thoroughly then scrap it out in my narration for Head of Annisaa Gamais ITB 2020 election (which I, gladly, failed… wait, it was a success to be not chosen!). I productively uploaded four long yet short monologues on my Instagram feed. Then what is the real problem? Well, I don’t want to say it is a problem, so–what is the cause?
Let’s look back a few hundred steps, eh, days. I think I always have too much on my plate, relatively. College, takmir, multiple organization’s stuff, personal projects, people’s expectations (haha), scholarship duties. Everything happened at once can drove me nuts. Sometimes, I think I was going nowhere, stuck, done many things but felt nothing accomplished.
Then I started did countable experiment on my fork and my plate. I abandon some goals. I gave less attention to low-risk projects. I delayed online chats. I gave myself permission to forgot. I dared to say light and bold “no”-s for everything came after I say a difficult “yes”.
From those experience, until just recently, one red line can be pulled:
I can only achieve more by being less.
You can call it essentialism. I may write about this later.
The less is clearly about the items on the plate. But what is that more that I was talking about?
It is giving out my thoughts. Clear my mind out of jumbled concepts that underlays reality, then act upon it.
I can think of my cerebral as a sponge that easily absorb the liquid, information and facts around me. I process it in such a way so I can confidently grab a conclusion–the product of nutrient-processing I got from the liquid.
What has happened to me was I rarely squished that sponge. The liquid became stinks and add heavy weigh to my mental work. I keep adding liquids (thing on my plate, things to think about) and preoccupied by what was happening now while still carrying the residue from yesterday. I didn’t even realize that was the case, that was how I work. I need a lot of reality to struck me.
I think it was my own mental drama at the election I mention few paragraph before that turned on the switch. Switch that made me accepted my own vulnerabilities. By forced myself to act in such cold, calculated way, relying on hard-fact, yet didn’t even felt the shame of showing my fears, I pour everything in my head on one long essay. I shared a big portion of it publicly online and spill the rest to few important ones. I never felt so fresh.
After that, I do write more, even as insignificant as possible, recording everything, letting out every thoughts. I desired to find pattern in my life, on how I work. It was thinking about thinking. Until I came into question on how should I write? Part of squished the sponge is also sharing the product, (otherwise I will feel useless). What to share? Where to share?
Then finally I choose this blog for writing all the jumbled ideas which have some values in it; at least it contains some useful insight. Then turn some of them into bits of narration on my Instagram.
Why not Medium? What to do with it? I don’t know, haha. Maybe because I need few personalizations on how my post looks.