Thursday, September 8, 2016

Look at me I made a blog. LULz.

F-ck it. I have no idea what to do with this blog.

Sure I know how to create and even run a blog. But I have no idea what to do with it. Why did I create it in the first place? What will I write about? Who will I write to?

Will anyone care?

I don't think so. I guess I'll just write for myself and see how it goes.

Remember the adorable chemistry dog? I'm this guy. Image:

I still no idea what to write about. No, it's not that I have nothing to say. My problem is the opposite. I have too much to say. I have no idea where to begin.

Maybe you should know something about me. But there's so much to tell you, a basic age/sex/location thing is so superficial. It doesn't tell you who I am.

But where shall I begin, then? (Aww f-ck it, 33/cis female/Finland. There. It doesn't tell you much about me.)

Well. Let me tell you something that matters.

Let me introduce you to an important "person" in my life: the Inner Critic.

The Inner Critic, or IC, lives inside my head and comments everything I do. He (or she or it; I kinda haven't figured out its gender because it doesn't really matter) is brutal, perfectionistic, pessimistic, and never happy with anything I do.

Every time I try to do something I'm not 110% great at, the Inner Critic tells me I suck at it and I should stop it and just crawl under a rock, curl up in a ball and die.

I'm trying to learn to silence, or at least ignore, the Inner Critic's voice. He's done a lot of damage to me and my life. At the moment, he tells me this post is a piece of sh*t and I would be better off if I killed myself than posted it publicly.

"Just f-ck it!" I say.

To me, "F-ck it!" means a bit like "Just do it!" but it's more than "just doing" something. It's also not caring about what other people (or my Inner Critic) will think.

This blog exists because I managed to silence the IC's voice for a while.

The IC told me my blog and this post are amazing pieces of sh*t, but I managed to tell myself that there is so much sh*t floating on t3h interwebz anyway, if they deserve their existence, my piece of sh*t deserves to exist as well.

Then I hit the big orange "Publish" button.

HA. F-ck it.

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