“So a lot of you have been asking me why I decided to start a blog.”
–– nobody asked. not even my mom. not even my infant child.
If influencers can share their skincare routine even though no one asked for it, I can talk about myself too. I mean no shade here – I learned about double cleansing from an influencer and it changed my life. Google it (only once you finish reading this.)
So here’s why I started a blog: I’d like to write for myself.
That’s what I’ve been telling people. All those imaginary crowds relentlessly asking me about my motivations. To be fair, I didn’t fully understand what I meant either — I blurted it out and then had to reverse-engineer some meaning (a precious habit of mine that has led to several questionable adventures).
What does ‘writing for myself’ even mean?
Maybe it means having the time and the headspace to create something. It means writing about the insignificant things I think are important or perspectives I feel like sharing with the world. It means chronicling milestones that I want to remember.
It’s for me in the sense that nobody is paying me for it. There are no objectives. There’s nothing to accomplish. I don’t need to care about the stats or analytics. There are no gentle reminders for due dates. There’s nobody sending me a list of changes or edits. I wanted to write simply because I love writing.
“I want to create more than I consume.”
– Sonia, after watching Instagram reels for 83 minutes straight.
The fact that Jeff Bezos talked about this long before I did (in his 2020 letter to shareholders) makes it 8000 times less cool but I’m here to do some damage control. Plenty has been written about this consumption-to-creation ratio.
Creation and consumption are two fundamental aspects of our existence. We consume to sustain ourselves, to acquire knowledge, and to have a good freakin time. But it’s the act of creation that truly sets us apart as human beings. (Turns out we are human doings after all?)
Creating something, whether it’s a piece of art, a sandwich, a song, a 15-second dance reel, a scientific discovery, it’s all a uniquely human endeavor. It requires imagination, ingenuity, and the willingness to take risks. It also involves a deep sense of purpose, a desire to contribute something meaningful to the world. I’d argue that skincare routines and dance reels are meaningful too – come fight me.
In contrast, consumption is often passive and fleeting. I consume countless hours of entertainment, information, and material goods without ever really engaging with them or understanding their value. But in the end, consumption of this kind leaves me feeling empty and unfulfilled, like I’ve wasted my day.
Something about cows
My goal isn’t to be productive and creative all the time. I appreciate the satisfaction of taking it easy and doom-scrolling till the cows come home (I live near cows. If you don’t live near cows please don’t repeat this expression or people will think you’re 87 years old). BUT if you find yourself left with a disgusting sense of what-am-I-doing-with-myself because you’ve lost out on precious time after putting your phone down or turning off the TV, it might be worth giving this a second thought.
What I mean by ‘creating’ in this context is contribution. People throughout history have been defined by what they created and contributed to the world. Sure, it isn’t an ironclad statement because not everything of value that you create will stand the test of time but just roll with it for the sake of this discourse.
All we know about the people that lived four and a half thousand years ago is by looking at what they left behind – the stuff they created, built, and contributed. The architecture, the tools and weapons, the earrings, the skincare routines, the music, the stories and poetry, the pyramids.
I’m sure there were tons of people that were kind. They raised their family well. They cared for their surroundings. They drank wine. They gave their dogs a good rub on their tumtum.
It just sucks that we know little to nothing about those nice people. I suppose on the surface, what you create and what you’re putting out into the world is how you’ll be remembered.
So am I doing this to feel significant?
I don’t know. Maybe. (Wow what’s with you guys and all the questions?)
I think the main reason I’m choosing to contribute through writing is because I really love it. I’m good at it, and I want to be better. Through this attempt to create something, I will hopefully cultivate an even greater sense of appreciation for the process.
The only other time I ever wrote for myself was as a child. I began journaling around the age of 9 and continued that practice for about a decade. But I remember the day I decided to start. My family and I visited Windsor Castle, and I was so blown away by the fanciness of it all. The massive castle itself was breathtaking, the whole thing was like one giant British flex and I felt it.
I’ve kinda forgotten how the castle looks from the outside now but the thing I still remember about that day was how I felt walking through its many frilly rooms. I was amazed at the level of interest we (and a few thousand tourists) took in the lives of these former castle-dwellers. We were walking through their bedrooms like it was an IKEA store and it all seemed like a blur to me UNTIL – we reached the rooms of the little girls that once inhabited the place.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why their dollhouses were on display. If my dollhouses survived a few hundred years, would someone come see them in a museum? (as if my dolls even had houses, they were in foster care between me and my sister)
But do you need to live in a castle for your bedroom to be worth visiting after you die? What did you need to do for people to consider you important?
The whole experience left me in a messy mix of fascination and feeling overwhelmed and wanting some dolls. I went to the gift shop and there were no dolls (I should add, my brother did pick up little iron soldiers which I guess are dolls?) I bought a tiny red diary, and began writing all of it down. I didn’t write about these internal conflicts, because like any ordinary 9-year-old, I didn’t quite have the ability to put words to those things yet.
I wrote about how odd it was that the sun hadn’t set by 8:30 pm. I wrote about meeting my cousins. I wrote about how I wasn’t sure whether steak and kidney pie tasted weird or not.
I wrote because I felt like my life mattered. The fact that my life was ordinary, or that I was ordinary didn’t make me feel any less important. To me, the details of my day were important. My thoughts and opinions were important. I used to pour it all out onto those pages — my insecurities, my worries about the future, what I was reading, what I did with my day. It was all chronicled, and it was only for me.
I think I eventually stopped because my outlook changed. I didn’t make the time. My sense of self-importance was replaced with self-loathing. I didn’t feel like I mattered as much. My thoughts and opinions felt dumb unless they echoed the thoughts and opinions of people I admired. I didn’t feel authentic anymore. So it didn’t make sense to chronicle any of that. Nothing about me felt permanent enough to write down.
So why am I writing now?
Back to the original question that all my thousands of followers have been asking me. Like aLL tHe tiMe.
My return to writing, as I said earlier, stems from a desire to create. To contribute. It’s very different from my years of diary-writing and journaling, mainly because I will attempt to be authentic even with others watching — something that the younger me would have struggled with. I may not always be able to be 100 percent authentic, but I’ll try. Because I’m doing this for me.
So what makes it all worthwhile? (Apart from my millions of followers and the riches and the fame)
I hope it’s the sense of accomplishment I feel by the end of it. As I wrap this up, I’m feeling some already. I want this ongoing activity to help me see myself in a new light. I’d like to earn my own appreciation.
And lastly, this is my attempt to take up space in my castle.
Unfinished Conversations 
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