hello dear ones!
allow me to introduce myself. my name is jordan duncan, maiden name lanegan, i’m 21, living in New York, and yes you read that right i’m 21 and married, i like to hike, i’ve swam with whale sharks, i’m a waitress, and i just went blonde (kinda).
cordialities over, may i just start this off with saying… you have absolutely no idea how long it has taken me to reach this point – the point of actually creating well… this. a blog. an online diary. a hobby. a release. a somethin. if you only knew how many hours (countless) i have spent talking about curating this baby. you’d laugh. a lot.
i’ve fallen short for a number of reasons. i’m sorta a perfectionist which means that as inspired as i may be about something, i am equally scared shitless of failing (cliche, i know) and therefore stop before i even really allow myself the chance to fuck it up. that’s why beginning is the hardest part of all. because you have to actually commit, and start doing rather than talking. but it’s getting over that first hump and pushing past the overwhelming feelings of doubt when you realize that everybody who has succeeded in doing anything ever also had to start off in square one, probably scared shitless too. so here i am. doin the damn thing. or attempting to.
here’s a little of my background: when i was a kid, i wrote a lot. i won school essay awards, writing competitions, went to writing conferences, and wrote like a 300 page book when i was twelve. i was going to open up a bookstore called ‘endless possiblites’ (my grandma helped me come up with the name), and it was gonna be part bookstore, part coffee shop, part kick ass writing classes. i was going to be an author. new york times bestseller level. i had dreams, and my family backed it. to this day, my mom is still my number one supporter. every time she calls she does this checklist of questions: have you been writing? meditating? setting goals? and i love her for it, especially because she still asks despite the fact that my answer has been “kind of, not much though” for as long as i can remember.
but it’s not because i don’t want to write. i do. i miss how i used to get lost in it. but when high school and college rolled around i found myself more involved with jobs, parties, friends, boyfriends. and soon the only writing i was doing were the essays i cranked out for classes. so i passed it off as a childhood passion and tried to buckle down on what i was actually going to do with my life.
… still trying to figure that one out.
one thing is for certain though. i am done with my excuses. two nights ago i had this little light bulb go off in my head. i had a phone call with my mom earlier that evening where a chunk of the conversation was her asking me if i had been writing at all, and me saying kind of, not much, then adding that i wasn’t so sure if writing was gonna be a future for me, and her replying with, yeah, you lost your passion honey. and then we moved on to the next topic.
and it was all good sailing ’till bedtime when i couldn’t shake the hammering question in my mind: had i lost my passion? after a borderline insane inner dialogue, i came to the conclusion that no, in fact, i hadn’t lost it; it was just buried underneath a massive, grotesque, rotten pile of bullshit commonly known as, my excuses. i wasn’t writing because i didn’t have time, because to hell with writer’s block, because i needed to find a journal to inspire me, or because well, netflix now, writing tomorrow… rewind, repeat. i always found a reason to push it off just one more day. then, when i tossed around the idea of running a blog as an actual profession, i convinced myself that i could only start building it when i had every minuscule detail planned. after all, if i was going to be bold enough to place all my bets on this, it damn well better be a success. yet somehow, after all that build up, my mind ruled the consensus that all of that sounded like way, way too much work and the odds of me actually creating a blog as popular as that were slim to none. so i locked the door to that dream and threw away the key.
that is, until the epiphany came to me. (super cliche, bare with me). the light bulb came on and i finally realized how absolutely absurd my approach to writing had been. when i was a kid, i saw a keyboard and a blank page as the beginning of a very good night. as i grew up, i saw a keyboard and a blank page as the beginning of a very slow death, because 10 page research papers and procrastination don’t mix. and up until two nights ago, i saw a keyboard and a blank page as an even crueler duo, mocking me as if i had any clue what i’d write if i actually did sit down and try.
the key to unlocking that door again is so clear to me now. revert to my inner child. find the joy in writing. stop looking at it as such a task and just have fun with it. who gives a shit if it’s bad? it’s supposed to be. that’s how you grow. and find your voice. and become better. who gives a shit if nobody but my mom is reading it? so what, at least someone is. and even if nobody is, who cares. i write because it calms me, and centers me, and makes me feel good. and that’s enough. that is totally, one hundred percent, more than enough.
so to hell with starting a blog to make money, and to hell with chasing perfection. i’m writing because i want to, and i’m starting this blog because it sounds like the beginning of a very, very good journey.
with that being said, it’s 2:47 in the morning, which means… lights out. but hey, *fist bump*, i finally finished my first post (talking to you mom).
lots of love,