A thought from a friend:
In my contemplation about me writing about something, and while I was writing a blog (that I wrote before this entry), I have further realized today the huge difference between blogs and tidbits of thoughts that go to various social-networking sites such as Plurk or Twitter.
"Nuggets of wisdom" only contain small flakes of knowledge, or thought in them. Yes, they can be expounded, but they will only expound once further thought is given unto them. A balloon won't inflate unless one breathes into them or pumps them air.
I have in the past reflected a lot of times about me not writing as much anymore compared to the first few years that I started this blog. Yes, I love writing, I love expressing my thoughts, and I love learning more about myself. But, it's not the type of love that I devote myself entirely to writing. I am not a writer by profession. I am not a writer by title. I am only a writer by want, and by choice.
My knack for writing continuously (in this blog) had come to a sort of hiatus starting the time that I felt like writing was a matter of impressing through expressing, expressing through the number of entries I write, and by expressing whenever I felt like something needs to be expressed, but couldn't be -- those that Wittgenstein claims should be treated with silence. "What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence" (Tractatus 7), but I still find myself struggling and forcing myself to speak out what cannot be spoken.
Another reason why I had lesser and lesser blog entries is because of the advent and the then-rising popularity of micro-blogging sites (Plurk, Twitter, etc.) -- they're now really popular (especially the latter). They greatly decreased my personal appeal to blogs, although I love them in essence. "Micro" as they were, they remained as small dots, and dashes, that just could not make a straight line. I'd be lucky enough to scoop my hands through them like dust, and hold them together for moments, until what's left of their diminishing number is a tiny mound of sand. Aside from the said reasons, I can't think of others, although there still might be more.
There's just a difference when you write a piece, your thoughts. There's a whole lot o learning. There is depth, and there is form. You don't just see the particles that make up something, you see what the particles create. You don't expect the pieces to create their selves on their own. You should be the one to piece them together with your own hands, not just your imagination. Your imagination is only the abstract of the extent or potentiality of them to become what they can be -- a whole piece. The most that we might make out of the snippets of our thoughts (Tweets, Plurks) would be Sand Castles. But, if we take a moment and give more time to actually think, and then write, we get the chance to learn more, create understanding, and generate knowledge. We build palaces that are either made up of wood, or even stone.
I am writing this because I believe I have found again and realized more about what the importance of writing is to me. I think I now understand more why I write, why I share, why I post. I am not promising more entries, because I know now that it is not about numbers. But, what I can promise is that I know what writing means to me now, after trying to search for what it means to me from the start.
Notes: the friend I was referring to is J. Miguel Quizon. Thank you very much for the thoughts on writing. Anticipating to learn more from you soon! :)
References about "silence" include:
- Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1953. Philosophical Investigations. Translated by G.E.M. Anscombe. Oxford: Basil Blackwell
- _____. 1974. Tractatus logico-philosophicus. Translated By D.F. Pears and B.F. McGuinness. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.