Finding an Active Voice

I was talking with my mom and sister earlier today about observations on reading my old blog when I shared that I didn’t think my writing has changed much since 2005 when high school ended. My sister begged to differ and specifically commented on how in previous writing I would often use the passive voice which drove her mad; and in my recent writing I’ve been much better about using active language.

While I agree with the observation, I think this change isn’t as much about my writing as it is about changes in myself and my action. In 2005 I wasn’t just writing with a passive voice, I was passive. Things in life happened. Things in life happened to me. But I wasn’t making them happen. School happened. Homework happened. Current events happened. And I took little to no part in making these things happen. If I didn’t show up to school (Which rarely happened unless I was sick. I didn’t cut my first class until a Prop 8 rally when I was at UCSB) the day would the same as if I wasn’t there. With or without my presence my bubble of the world would have been roughly the same. Thus when I wrote it was from the stance of observation. Not experience.

Fast forward to the present. Almost everything I’ve written about recently has been personal anecdotes to share with friends or political calls to action. Experience on the ground in multiple campaigns for various causes makes it much easier to speak about the process directly. It’s not just voters were registered and calls were made. I lost my voice in the days leading to the election doing GOTV work and called people until my phone’s battery died. Laws weren’t passively happening anymore – active lobbying on both sides made for active struggles. Whether it was being a part of a production or being a community organizer – at least my bubble I was actively doing something. (Who knows if it actually did anything – we’ll look back in 5 years.) so I began to speak as such. And thus began to write that way too.

Why blogging is good - the old internet archives

I’ve recently discovered why blogging is good.

Rereading the archives.

I was irked by the NYT article repeatedly showing up on my newsfeed (What Is It About 20-Somethings?) and thought of a letter to the editor for TIME that I wrote back in 2006 responding to an article characterizing our current generation, which described us as the multitasking generation. I found it later – and will respond to those articles again later if I find time, but in looking for the article I found out something else.

Years before I knew the queer community I took a stance in favor of same-sex marriage. Years before I thought I was interested in media I was comparing 3 to 4 news sources for biases in looking to current events. And years before I thought of myself as an activist I was taking the stance of speaking into the void of the internet to declare my opinion.

Selective memory means if you ask me about 2005 I’ll tell you about graduating from high school, starting at Foothill College, getting a job, a camera, travel – but I’ll forget which issues went where. I’ve forgotten which online quizzes I took (Just retook some – results have changed… ). I forgot what a big deal goodbyes were before facebook took off – the email exchange and numbers in yearbooks. How much more aware I was of the news and how it affected me before I could vote and suddenly received political spam rather than just newsprint to educate on the issues. I forgot a lot of the details, the mundane ones with the flavor of the ordinary. And in rereading them I remembered. I clicked old links, found friends old blogs, and recalled where they were. I meandered through time and in doing so actively reflected with a much greater depth than the current rut of thought I’ve been stuck in.

When I’m passively sitting, ideas used to be bouncing around like bubbles from the wand of a five year old. These notions were erratic and random, yet stemming from a common source. And at some point in the last few years I found my thinking actively declined. If I stopped without a topic in my mind, I’d go blank. Listening to the whir of fans or a breeze seeing the color of the light and then after the observation it was like my brain would be put on pause until I actively focused on something – and then thinking became an active act on whatever notion I chose to focus on. Thoughts didn’t just happen, things wouldn’t just occur to me, thoughts were the product of a focused effort. I’d get stuck in a linear progression that lead to a predictable product.

But rereading my own words set off fireworks in my brain last night. Like chipping a frozen waterfall and finding a gushing river underneath I’ve been thinking about everything since then. The traffic patterns, the paint between the lanes on the highway, the DMV, government structures, international politics, the texture of paint best suited for a photomontage, ideas for art, the difference between the same content in different context, flavors and texture in food, the practice of religion, people and their professions, maturation versus mindless conformity – anything and everything was back in play.

I’m not saying rereading old posts or journals or newspapers is always great, I’m sure if one was stuck looking backwards nothing good would come of it, but rather there is a great value to have an archive of one’s thoughts, public stances, the cross commentary of those who read, and the engagement around them. It feels like I’m eavesdropping on the past to explore that which might have not been posted today where people are so conscious of their personal branding online rather than seeing a forum of ultimate freedom. It’s realizing just how much the web has changed in a few short years, and how the dialogs possible alter with those conventions.

But I think the more interesting part is the casualness of it – the coffee table convo of a thought you’d share without researching it. The opinions, speculations, and unabashed biases displayed. It’s wonderful. I wouldn’t necessarily want policy based on it – but I would want that social dialog to happen, to be open for anyone to participate in, be open for future review and accessible across time and space– and those old blogs had that to a degree I find lacking now that every news outlet and pundit is online acting as if sound bites and repetition equal fair representation or debate. Anyways, my two cents on some internet nostalgia… I’ll probably start posting more – if nothing else to try to recreate a small piece of that conversation for myself and friends.