Bloganuary: Boring book

woman yawning with a book
Photo by George Milton on Pexels.com

My autobiography would be boring and short. The chapters would be named Chapter One, and so on. I don’t know who would want to read it. I have nothing interesting to say. My life hasn’t been exciting, just average. I have had my ups and downs like anyone else. I’m nothing special, and I never do anything interesting. I’m all talk and no action. Let’s say I dream and am too afraid to do anything about it. I don’t think I would write an autobiography anyway. If I published a book, it would probably be about my photography or poems I’ve written. I’ve actually considered collecting the best poems I’ve posted on this blog and publishing only one copy, just to myself. But there are so many, so there would be too much work. It’s only been a thought, and I don’t know if I would actually do it. It would only lay somewhere to collect dust. Besides, I don’t have a bookshelf so I wouldn’t know where to put it.

Bloganuary: Lie or only denial

lie and truth sign
Made in Canva

I don’t know if it’s a lie or only a denial, but I’m not as good as I think I am. I question my skills all the time. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I keep putting off things. For example, since 2018, I’ve thought about becoming an entrepreneur. I went to a course about it too. I wanted to become many things, but I constantly changed my mind. I kept telling myself I was good at something, but then I didn’t get the response I wished for from others. I thought I was only an average photographer, writer or anything creative. I thought I couldn’t make it professionally. Maybe I’m lying to myself that I could. I’m worried people will see through me, but they don’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me the truth. The truth about that I should choose a profession other than something creative. My photos and designs are plain, and no one would want to pay me because they might make them for free elsewhere. That kind of doubt is often in my head.

Sometimes I wonder if people understand what I’m writing about. Am I the writer that I think I am? It’s not like I’m writing a novel here. I’ve got good feedback about my fiction, and people like my blog posts. But my writing is a hobby. I don’t get paid for it. Writing is the only thing I feel comfortable about. I know I’m good at it. I won’t lie or deny it. It’s other things that I think I’m lying to myself about. There will always be someone who is a better photographer than me. The same goes for graphic design and other creative things. I don’t like the “not being good enough to get paid for”- feeling. I have never wanted an ordinary job where you go at 8 or 9 am and then home at 4 or 5 pm. I can’t sit still and do something boring all day. I need change, and that’s what creative work is. But I can’t get hired because I have no job experience in the field. It’s challenging to get any of that.

As an introvert, it’s hard for me to know what my strengths are. I lie, or I’m in denial that I’m versatile, but am I truly so? Is that even a strength? A killer can be versatile by killing different kinds of people. I like doing different things, and I guess I’m doing OK with them. I wish I was more confident about my skills and not always doubting them. Being honest with yourself is easier than lying. But also, you shouldn’t forget that life does not always go as planned. If you lie to yourself about that, then you’re in denial.

Bloganuary: I love my home but

outdoor mat
Photo by Kelly on Pexels.com

My home is in an ideal spot. I have a nice view, and it’s close to everything. I love my home, but the neighbours irritate me, like the one downstairs. She’s a smoker, and sometimes she has friends over. They can be on the balcony at 5 am and keep talking. It’s not nice at all. You can hear them speak out loud in the middle of the night. It’s not only downstairs. It’s in other flats too. Like one wasn’t enough. It feels like the walls are thin, but I think it’s the volume of their voice. At least it’s not all the time, though.

I have lived in my flat since 2005. My mother owned it, and I inherited it from her when she died. It’s nice to own a place of your own. It’s a very adult thing to have. I probably would live on rent if my mother hadn’t owned it. I don’t know if I’m gonna move any time soon. It’s for the view that I live for. Sometimes you can see a beautiful sky. The photos below are the view from my living room. It was taken early in the morning in 2015. The one on the left side was taken in May, and the one on the right, in April.

You can see the view better in the 2nd photo. There are no tall buildings in the way, which makes the view to die for. I don’t know where I could find a view like that close to the downtown area. I have no reason to move anyway.