Today I visited the blogs of five people whom I’ve known since freshman high school. One of these blogs taught me a lot about love, the other one about faith, and the remaining three about the overall nature of being alive. Throughout my adolescent years, I had spent more time reading about these people’s stories and experiences than all of my academic textbooks combined. And each of them had greatly moved me more than once by his words. They are all good writers.
But today, after closing the window of that fifth blogger’s website, I was rather dejected to learn that they’ve all stopped writing. Without any sort of warning or goodbye, they’ve all just disappeared, leaving their powerful work behind. I then went through their Facebook and Twitter profiles and upon substantial amount of link clicks and scroll downs, theorized that the main reason these writers stopped writing for a relatively long time is that they all [got busy]. Busy with 9-5 jobs, busy with call center jobs, busy with part-time jobs, full-time jobs, office jobs, healthcare jobs, or whatever kind of job it is that’s apparently somehow keeping them from writing.
Again, this is only my hypothesis. But if this really is the case, then it’s just sad. It’s sad that the “real world” or the “real life” all of a sudden just comes into focus and scares creativity away. And I am also sincerely sad because these blogs are blogs that I’ve grown up with. They are like my trusted friends in the World Wide Web. I’ve learned a great deal of trust and passion for the art of writing and the freedom of self-expression by feeding my soul with other people’s unabashed transcriptions of the human experience. And the mere thought of a “successful career” eating these kindred spirits’ time for further self-exploration and self-discovery is simply bothersome to me.
“All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” (Pablo Picasso)