Blogging about ... you

From link to link (yassen's post about his last photo walk -> yovko's comments -> his blog -> few last posts and comments -> most commented posts -> scent of a woman -> emancipation -> Lunnar girl) and I ended on Yovko's blog, reading some (very) old posts amongst which the "Lunnar girl" (in bulgarian).

I never met him, and I even don't follow his blog regularly (I do have him in my reader, but I usually read only his photo related or web/CC related stuff). Reading some of his thoughts tonight has brought him much closer to me than some of my friends are. His posts are honest, open confessions made to himself (поздравявам те за което). Some of that posts are about very personal, some may even say private things.

Writing about one's emotional falls, first love, thoughts that one had while making love for the last time with someone... You can ask, why would anyone do this?

I kind of know.

As a pupil, I loved to write short stories. Most of them were not autobiographical, but were important to me, actually events in them were something like ... hm .. If you throw hand full of small rocks into water, and they all make waves, and those waves intersect and change each other - my true feelings were the rocks in my hand, and my writings were the resulted waves - still conected, and the latter would not exist if there was not the first one, but the connection is actually very translucent. I have some of those stories archived at home (edit: hm, interesting. By home I meant the place where I grew, the house of my parents), others are lost. But that is not important. Those days I needed to write. Part of that need is transformed into the posts that you read, but I do feel that this is not it. Actually, there was a time when i wanted to open site where i would write. Maybe even under other nick/pseudonym - not because of anonymity. Maybe one day I will (and i won't be in english).

One of the reasons that I am writing here is to better know myself. As strange as it sound, it does work.
The english language of this blog "helps" me to keep the half-official tone and not to get too direct (with myself?). In this post I will surely have more errors than in others - the reason of which is the fact, that I usually don't edit my personal writings. It would be like trying to change the form of a water drop, because you don't like it.

Other thing that i wanted to talk about is the fact that at yassen's blog I said (paraphrase): ''I really want to go to some small village/city / maybe with small group of photographer-friends / to take pictures there.' The bad news for me is that actually I do go to such place from time to time, but almost never get pictures. That place is my birthplace. Why? Time to think about it.

From time to time, I used to have talks with myself. I have not talked with myself in that way for years. While I write this post, the beginnings of this talk are starting to emerge in my consciousness.

I am happy with my life as it is now. I do, however, miss some things. Which ones? I will keep that for my little chat with myself

Writing in your non-native language for such subjects can be really hard and ... unnatural. I am stopping here.

Hm, I started this post because I wanted to say few words about yovko's Lunnar girl post. It has gone other way. I once said that my brain really likes to play associative games with me. Just as I write this, I remembered the way I used to write then, in one breath, just putting on the paper what came on the surface. And the associations go further and further, I could write forever.

Edit: Actually, as I read the post now, it says nothing, just opens few topics and then (cowardly) changes the active one. As i said: "hm"