A rose

I find myself wondering… who am I? What do I want to be? Not ‘when I grow up’– I feel pretty confident in how I’d like to earn money. But… what about everything else? What about the fringes of that?

I read a few blogs, mostly personal ones. I read things my friends refer me to. I don’t watch television, except on DVD occasionally, and the Daily Show lineup. I don’t read news sites. I look up answers to questions of my own, I follow links on the web. I do play video games, but I don’t participate in the community around them, except as an observer. I read books, and again, I observe the community around books I enjoy without taking part.

I spent most of my school years as an observer rather than a participant, and I feel like I’m back in that position again. I wonder if I’ll ever again have the shift I had in late high school when I suddenly ‘woke up’ and stopped being merely a watcher. More importantly, I wonder if I want to.

I know lots of people get through life without participating in any kind of fandom, forums, blogosphere or other distributed social network. This introspection arises from an… ahah… observation that people involved in creative, artistic/entertainment professions DO seem to also be part of an active distributed community. Maybe it’s self-marketing?

I’m only seeing the people who fall within the scope of my observation, of course. So a deeper question is, if I don’t want to ‘wake up’, should I even be looking in that direction?

What do I want to be?

I keep thinking that I’d like to be more of a blogger– writing cute columns like a manga author, or writing intriguing teasers for my projects, or critical analysis of games. I almost always have massive bloggers’ block, though. What do I have to say that anybody cares about? I’m not even funny. And even if I did have something to say, how would anybody find it in all the noise of the blogosphere?

I even keep creating blogs so that I could keep the family-focused stuff separate from a more professional site. And then I never post there, not even once.

So, what do I want to be? Do I really want to spend hours a day writing blog entries– and reading others? Because that’s part of those whole thing. There’s overhead associated with whatever I want. I don’t think living a life turned totally inward is healthy for me.

I could do art instead. Underneath all this introspection, I feel very positive– as if I could do well at any endeavor I chose (except maybe writing a professional blog).

Long ago, I gave up on any visual artistic endeavor, because I realized I couldn’t dedicate myself to both writing and a visual art. I just didn’t have the time to concentrate the way I felt I needed to. I feel better about that time now (even as the novel is kicking my ass).

I wonder what the problem I have with blogging is? You’d think a writer wouldn’t have any trouble blogging, right? I certainly don’t mind talking at length. Just ask the people I IM during the day. Why does making abstract art about tentacles, or necklaces out of giant plastic macaroni beads, or writing haiku, or writing a computer game, or painting rainbows, or editing a music video all sound so much more appealing to me? And– why does each imagined accomplishment come with an imagined community?

Do I want to do something as a way of fitting into a community, or do something and then share it with a community that might appreciate it?

I suppose there’s no identity on the internet but what you say and do. I certainly believe that it would be easier to find support for whatever obscure hobby (‘plastic macaroni knitting’) I pursue on the internet. Plus, I don’t have a working car. But my sense of boundaries between the internet and the real world are blurred. I know not everybody has a presence on the internet, uses it to find entertainment, talk to friends, etc. But I don’t actually know how big, or small, the intersection is.

Who am I? I want a voice, an identity. What do I want to be?

I suppose right now, i want to be a writer with a finished book. And a reliable SHIFT key, thank you, Robin.