Late night thoughts on writing

Often times it is during the silence of a late night that I feel the little tingle of inspiration, an entry demanding to be written. Something perhaps more genuinely felt, something more spontaneous then an entry written simply for the sake of updating, something that doesn't feel flurried and distracted and bumpy, from beginning to end.

Yet with regret I hold back... it is an odd habit that is almost part of my character, an automatic instinct to pause and check what's inappropriate... and I must say that it is quite tiresome to be conscientious all the time, even if diplomancy and tact are virtues. It would be nice, somewhat, to retort, or dish out a wickedly sarcastic remark, or snap a direct refusal, but then, much to my horror, it is not something that comes naturally to me. Which is really quite aggravating because then I would be horribly boring and guai. And quiet. How painful is that? *cringes*

I don't quite believe that I used to write so... politely. When I talk, yes, it is understandable, at least to myself, to be really quite polite, since I was brought up to be so, but when I first discovered the delight of releasing raw emotions in words I could hear myself ranting and raving away, an echo of the instance sounding within my head. Happy or not, it was spontaneity in action, and I like it that way. But blogging seemed to be another matter altogether... a diary is one thing, a blog is another, and even if you probably heard a lot more from me in here than you'll ever hear from me in person, it's... *ponders* it's still published material, and has been vetted with an audience in mind in the entire process of writing, therefore even if it is true in every sense, there is no longer the permeating sense of nowness, or the easy familiarity. I read my recent entries and find them a freaking running commentary. Useful updates, no doubt, but so much explanations hinder the essence, and by the time I get to what I want to say..... Hey. What was I gonna say?

So now I note with some frustration that there is very little catharsis in blogging, unless I am able to abandon these inhibitions and pretend that no one is reading in order to churn out quality entries. That is of course very much simpler than abandoning my self-consciousness and be naturally chatty with strangers and acquaintances, or tell an annoying relative (or two) exactly what I think of their ridiculous, scr- *pause, takes a deep breath and sighs*

I really do need to work on it. Not cussing and swearing away, of course, but another style of writing, another approach, and loads more flexibility.

Darn. Badly overshot time. Will write again when.......... well, whenever. No need to make it harder for myself to write with extra expectations yah? =)