A Title, Untitled

It’s been almost 3 months since I’ve last written anything. That is of course after over 2 years of very irregular and quite rare occasions of writing, within which I switched to this “new” blog. Time has passed. Looking back, it almost seems that I have been so uninspired that I have lost my voice.

I have been changing non-stop, perhaps faster than my mind has been able to grasp. Whether this change was positive or negative, I cannot yet tell. It scares me. Stopping and halting my baby (or grown up?) steps towards anywhere to evaluate this continuous change scares me. As much as I know I need to let everything go and be myself, I cannot help but worry about what people around me expect of me, and what I expect of myself. Now I’m not sure if it means anything to rant about social expectations and whether or not I, like you, should work on fulfilling them.

A few years back, I had begun a journey to find myself.. in others, in music, in movies, in books. This journey, I am certain, had begun farther back than I can recall, but it only hit me as I entered university. If there’s anything I have learned from university, which usually doesn’t feel like that much, it is to question everything and everyone. To question myself. If there’s anything that my involvement in activism and my rising interest in politics has lead me to do it is to appreciate differences amongst people, amongst ideas, and within my very own self.

Yet, all that aside, I had managed to convince myself that I lost my voice a very long time ago. Now, the reasons for that I’m not sure of. Some people I surrounded myself with definitely were a factor. Yet again, since my performance at a local event (Arabian Night) last March 2012, I suddenly felt my voice was coming back to me. Yes, I was still as nervous as I ever could be. And of course, everybody listened to my “nervous voice” as opposed to my “singing-in-the-shower voice”. But it all came back to me. I suddenly found myself being invited to perform at event after event. And I must admit, with music, I have found my inner voice. For that I am very grateful to every criticism I received, negative or positive, to every compliment, to every invitation, and to every facial expression I have laid my eyes on while I was singing… at home in front of family, with friends, at rehearsals, and during performances. These faces are ones I could never forget.

Now as I am writing this particularly to be published on this blog, I wonder why I am writing. What the purpose of this post is. Why anybody would be bothered to read it, let alone to react to it in any way. I wonder. Then I wonder if it even matters. If it matters to have a clearly written purpose. If it matters if this is read or not. If it matters if anybody reacts even if emotionally.

And I wonder if I even need to worry.