193. On writing and connecting
re: always be writing and when to be vulnerable
Just a couple days into the new year and I have the tendency to be more reflective. In all honesty, I just want to be present. I'm taking these days slowly and writing more. Referencing my previous post, unfortunately I don't use Obsidian for my note-taking. I switched back to go ol' pen and paper and Notion boards.
Reading back over my old post, it’s clear I’ve been circling around this idea of vulnerability- not just in writing, but in every corner of my life. Whether it’s through scribbling messy notes about books or reaching out to strangers in the wild, there’s this undeniable undercurrent: a need to put something of myself out there, even if it feels imperfect or half-formed. I think the effort through this sort of vulnerability is pretty good!
It’s funny because I talk about “always writing” as though it’s something I just do (well, maybe hehe), but the truth is that I don’t always live up to that ideal. Sometimes I stall, second-guess, or procrastinate. And yet, I feel the absence of writing like a hole in my chest. The poison builds up when I let too many days slip by without creating. Writing isn’t just a habit; it’s a way to stay tethered to myself.
What I didn’t quite realize when I wrote that post is how much this applies to the social side of things, too. Putting myself out there with people- whether it's a date or trying to forge international relations- is another way I’m trying to stay connected with others. Vulnerability, in both cases, is the glue.
That said, I really think that vulnerability is exhausting. I mean, my little foray into having my international penpals, long-distance friendships, and peculiar romantic dates taught me a lot, but it also confirmed that I have limits. I can’t pour myself out in deep conversations often but I have the tendency to rush into meetups after a single message (I think it's better to filter out what you don't like in person and decide from the first or second impressions in a low stakes date like coffee or climbing gym, it's really to sus out the vibe...). I think I need time, space, and a certain rhythm to feel comfortable. And that’s okay. Even if I appear to be the most available or approachable person, I don’t have to be to still be open.
What surprised me most, though, was how satisfying it was to find those handful of connections that clicked. There’s something so grounding about finding people who make you think. I really enjoy finding that common ground. I really believe everyone has common ground. Even if the relationship stays surface-level or fizzles out after a while, the exchange feels like its own little masterpiece, like a brief, meaningful moment that doesn’t need to last forever to matter. I finally understand the sentiment behind "every relationship serves a purpose, but is limited."
I think that’s true of writing, too. Not everything I put down has to be groundbreaking or perfectly polished. Sometimes, the point is just to capture a fleeting thought, to give shape to something before it slips away. Vulnerability isn’t about being perfect; it’s about showing up and trying, even when it feels messy or small. My friend tiramisu talks about this in an old post I remembered liking: "On writing forever and being a good Bear citizen"! Fellow Bear blogger, Pratik, shares the same sentiment as us.
Anyway, this reminds me of my dear friend, Trotenkaza, and his most recent post, Guía (según tú) para tener un diario. It's a great read! It took me a longer time to read because Spanish is not my native language, but I am trying my best to understand the mother tongue of my friends to understand them better. I was well-equiped with DeepL and SpanishDict and I completed it through :D
This guide isn’t just practical; it’s quite motivating. It makes you want to grab any old notebook immediately and start writing. I have my very own bujo method, but I took away from the guide to apply it to my own note-taking. The way that Trotenkaza broke down journaling and diary writing into such approachable, bite-sized pieces feels like an open invitation- like you’re saying, “hey, it’s okay if it's incomplete; this is for you and only you.”
What really stuck with me, though, is how personal the guide feels. It’s like you’re sitting across from me, sharing these tips over coffee, and I can practically hear your voice in every word. It’s not preachy or over-polished; it’s real, and that’s what makes it so nice.
Honestly, I feel like this guide isn’t just about constructing your diary- it’s about learning to listen to yourself. You’ve turned a list of dos and don’ts into something much more profound: an invitation to reconnect with who we are, one scribbled word at a time.
One thing I’ve started doing is setting a timer when I journal. I write freely for ten minutes, then close the notebook without rereading. This helps me capture raw emotions without feeling the pressure to make them perfect or relive them right away. I do the same thing for blog writing - I try to set a timer for about 30 min to an hour, so I don't feel too hung up on what to say.
I’m always circling around the same lesson. Be present. Be intentional. Let it be enough.
~ bujo aficionado,
<3 K