I am sitting on a sofa in the middle of God's Own Junkyard, a sea of neon in north east London, drinking tea and eating cake. Behind my head, the words 'This Is It' flash in red. I am there with Roisi, a friend and talented writer, and we are having a conversation. So far, we have talked about meat shaming, how we wish we could have neon signs in our living rooms and the prospect of opening a gin palace (Mother's Ruin Gin Palace is occupying the unit next door and we have already been there for G&T's at 1pm). Now we are talking about blogging.
'I am going to start blogging again' says Roisi.
'Yes me too' I agree. 'I am going to start blogging again'.
'I mean, I AM going to start blogging again. When I get everything sorted, I will start doing it again'.
'Yes, I know, I think the same. I WILL get round to it. I AM going to start blogging again.'
I am not sure if this statement is true. I might not. I always feel like I want to do it, because I like writing and I have things to SAY, and what is the point of doing really fun stuff if I cannot then write about it? Or whatever.
But on the other hand, who really cares what I have to say? And is there much point? Will people think I'm stupid? Or self-indulgent? I never know, in the moments after hitting 'post', whether I have given too much of myself away by writing things about my life on the Internet. Maybe I do not want to blog. Maybe I am not going to start blogging again.
Roisi and I both used to write for a women's lifestyle webzine that was trying to get off the ground. It had potential, and there were some talented writers involved. It was owned by two female best friends who were all about being SASSY and COOL and DELIVERING GREAT CONTENT. Except they wouldn't pay us (not really a problem), let us use the blog to promote ourselves as writers (quite a bit of a problem - they wouldn't even let us put our Twitter handles on our posts) and they had a habit of ousting people who dared to give them constructive feedback or make suggestions for improvement. As a result, all their good writers left.
It left a void, because I enjoyed the writing part of it. I think Roisi felt the same way. I can't speak for her, but I'm worried that blogging for nobody but myself would seem silly and frivolous.
But here we were, in neon paradise (Roisi described the place as 'like Las Vegas except with less people shoving you out of the way and without losing all your money in a slot machine') which is exactly the sort of thing I like because BRIGHT COLOURS! And I had my camera to capture the neon paradise, and I travelled from Penge in south east London to get up here, on a TUBE TRAIN and everything, so - travel.
Travel and bright colours. That's what this is all about.
Maybe I could just blog in 5-sentences-at-a-time-or-less, with photographs and see if I like it. And it doesn't have to just be about travel and bright colours, it can be about all sorts of stuff. I am unsure what stuff, but we'll see.
Oh, also, I really hate the term 'blogging'. Can I call it something else, like 'writing crap down for all to see'?