Why I created a second weblog

Why I created a second weblog

I have felt for a long time a real desire to get my ideas out in some sort of "published" state. I don't know why my particular neurodiversity needs and wants this so much. But I think it's important. (Thanks to Ahmad Ajami for explaining how to create a second Ghost install on DigitalOcean, by the way.)

Having only installed the first Ghost install a few days ago, I feel absolutely in love with it. The ease of writing, the simplicity and non-distractedness of it makes me very very happy. It was what I needed.

But, I also needed some sort of space where I could feel "published". My need to feel published simply came prior to thinking about the needs of my audience. So I saw myself wanting to publish all sorts of things that might not be ready for that audience. I heard Seth Godin's voice, going "are you making this art for yourself, or for somebody else?

"Oops," I thought. These ideas were good and interesting, but they were not necessarily for an audience, at all. This is a constant struggle. I have so much to say, and I know it's good; but moving it through the various stages from personal perspective to framed for another... this is hard. For. Me.

I had already created a Hugo blog a few years ago that has a bunch of these kinds of posts. (https://idea.chrisburbridge.com/). Maybe I will port them all over here at some point.

Anyway, I am sure I am not alone. There has to be some sort of insight here — one that I keep coming to — about needing to have circles of release. I already wrote something about this, the other day. For some reason, when something is only in my own head, it remains utterly and completely floaty.

It is clear that these two properties are central to all creation: fluidity and fixity. Too much fluidity, and nothing ever sticks. You can't stick to anything, and you wander around too much. Too much fixity, and nothing ever changes. You're inflexible. You cannot adapt. For me, even publishing to this weblog, then, with probably a very low likelihood that anyone will ever see it (you never know, but... you know), means that it is — somehow — slightly more fixed. A little bit more baked. And this is a good thing. In the soup inside my head, it can be too fluid; you know what I mean?

I recognize this as a core piece of the creative process. There are phases or stages. At an early phase, create lots and lots of room for exploration. Then, apply a little bit of heat, to bake the ideas just a bit. Now, introduce them again, take a walk (or let them sit overnight), and then, introduce again. Bake again.

The yin and yang; in-breath and out-breath; are every bit as important as one another. The oversized McMansions do not realize this, but it is true.

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