Can you turn my black roses red?

As more and more blogs start to come to life, so do the words behind them. It starts out with a nervous introduction or a sort of explanation as to why this particular blog was created, but after a few entries, familiarity sets in. The author begins to open himself up to those willing to follow the links and who take the time to get to know him.

Can I ask you a question please?

Let's face it, in today's world, everything seems to go by in flashes. Flash. End of high school. Flash. First year of college over and done with. Flash. First love come and gone. We can't seem to get a hold of what is happening all around us. Pictures only capture a fraction of what we're going through. So maybe writing about them, seems like a more solid way to contain life, before it slips away.

Promise you won't laugh at me?

In class, the teacher told us that our generation's Facebook and blogs have replaced the diaries of old. In a way, that's true. We might have outgrown the paperback editions of our emotions, but we keep finding new ways to express how we really feel and think. Sure, we don't do it in extravagant ways such as writing a play worthy of Shakespeare or we don't compose the next Beethoven, but we each do something that matters to us in our own way.

As twisted as it seems,
I only fear love when it's in my dreams.

A few minutes ago, I was reading a friend's blog and I got to thinking about just how personal a blog can get. This morning, he asked me if I wrote personal stuff in my blog. I told him yes, because I can't imagine not doing that. If I were to leave out every personal detail of my life, you might as well go and read an encyclopedia, because this would just become an amalgamation of words, incoherently strung together.

So let in the morning light
and let the darkness fade way.

I'm not saying we should all pour our hearts out, because let's face it, then we'd need at least two bottles of vodka to even remotely start dealing with all the residual heartache that ensues. A blog should be a fine line between what defines you and what you want people to define you with. For some, this'll be easy, but for others -those who've stepped on a few landmines in the emotional battleground we call life- it'll be that much harder.

Can you turn my black roses red?

In my nineteen years of living, I'm sure I have amassed quite a bit of emotional luggage, enough to fill  a jumbo jet even, but each and every one of those experiences has contributed in some way to the person writing these words. It doesn't help to keep all of your emotions bottled up inside when it can feel so good to let them flow through your fingers, dance on your keyboard and jump onto the luminous screen in front of you. I promise you, once you see your heartache black on white, you'll know the worst part is over.

Can you turn my black roses red?

So in a way, blogs are the diaries of the twenty-first century, only they're a lot more public and they take up far less time. Time which can now be better spent at actually going out into the world -as opposed to sitting on your bed, listening to sappy songs, waiting for life to strike so you can write about it- and living your life.

One last year has come and gone.

And if there is tragedy, don't try to hide away from it. Tragedy finds us all in the end. But just remember: tragedy plus time equals comedy. So one day, after the fallout has cleared, you'll be able to get back up and you'll probably walk away with a few clever punchlines and sarcastic remarks to laugh away the pain.

It's time to let your love rain down on me.