There is this girl… Her name is Ioana.
Hmm… same name as mine. Go on.
She started blogging when in high school. She called her blog “Writings on the wall”. It was hosted by Blogger.
Fitting name. I shifted to “Photos on the wall” sometime afterwards… in 2008, if I am to believe my post archive on the right side of this block of text. And switched to WordPress instead.
She used to write and post links and comment and talk about stuff. A bit like Facebook.
Ugh! Don’t even remind me about that period. It looks so ugly to me now. I think the blog still indexes on Google. If so, I don’t want to search for it.
Then someone found out about what she wrote in there. Someone dear to her. At that time.
*goes somewhere and takes cover* Yeah, he found out about it. Or I might have publicly displayed it once. But who on Earth remembers stuff they only saw for a little time? Oh yeah, me. And apparently there are others…
The shock was even greater when he quoted what she had written in there… in a message he sent to her.
How can I remember these things? Yeah, that did happen. It wasn’t nice, because at that point we weren’t talking to each other. I wasn’t nice to read those words coming from him. It was like hitting me over and over again. Then I realized what I had written. It’s not a nice feeling to have your words coming back at you from the person you expected the least.
Moving on… she moved “house”. The people who cared moved with her.
I don’t know how many people actually cared about my blog back then. There’s only one who comes to mind and she still reads it.
With the change of location, there was a change in style. No more writings. More photos.
I had given up on writing. It was hurting me inside. I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone to read my words anyway. Besides, I wanted to show my photos more, to have a sense of personal display. Like the tagline says… “I ran out of albums, so I’m posting them on walls now.” It felt right to me. It didn’t feel too personal, so anyone hitting the front page wouldn’t see my ramblings about love issues and life.
The photos were a mixture of everything.
Odd. I don’t remember much about the old days here on WordPress. I think I considered moving back to Blogger at some point. I am like that, I shift a lot. In life, I’m the same. Probably it’s the creative side hard at work. I shifted through feelings, photo themes, WordPress themes… I shifted through periods of inactivity and periods where I had a lot to show to the world.
And it changed again.
My style? Yeah. Like I said, I shift, that’s what I do. But at the same time I stand still. I don’t know if I’m expressing myself the way I should.
Words started to appear. Often, they shifted the viewer’s attention from the photos.
Somehow, once I knew a certain pair of eyes were watching me, I knew I wouldn’t let the same thing happen, like it happened with the blogspot blog. This time, I was writing for him at some point.
She began writing a letter. She began reminiscing.
Mainly things I couldn’t say out loud. I find it easier to write now. I have shifted from writing for certain eyes to see to writing so that my eyes could see. I knew that I had to see those words showing up on screen, because they represent my thoughts. I think nobody witnessed the process of me writing a blog post. It’s a weird phenomenon. I don’t do drafts, I don’t save for later. Everything is done in one sweep of the keyboard. I don’t delete much, except to rephrase. Words come whenever I summon them. I don’t schedule when I am going to write. It just builds up inside somewhere and there’s a click! to let me know it’s time.
She had feelings on screen.
Lucky the letter was planned as far as 10 pages, otherwise I would have still been writing it as we speak.
She had photos as well.
I posted series of shots taken of people, places, objects. Even photos of drawings reproducing photographs. Personal projects. Especially in the 365, I tried to connect photos with writing. Sometimes feelings. It didn’t last long, because I lost myself somewhere in between. Torn myself in between photos and pieces of text.
People read her blog now.
Yes, one of the many things that I’m grateful for. Uhm… that sounds so false… Okay, rephrase. I appreciate people reading my blog cause with every follower, I realize the world is huge. People read from Columbia, from Indonesia, from Japan, from Germany. I imagine how it would be like meeting those people in the future. Thanking them in person. Excusing myself if I bored them too much with stuff.
She often thinks about…
About what lies beyond the words.
Who knows what lies beyond? Feelings… yes. Freedom of speech… occasionally. And that I’m planning on solving, because if my blog isn’t a free place, then where else will I be putting my feelings? The public opinion… I shouldn’t care about that. If they read my blog, then they either feel the same, enjoy photography the same or… are as lost as I am between the two words.
She currently declares to be unsure.
About everything. What I wrote until now, what I am going to write next, what I am going to read next (forgot to mention I used to write book reviews and give quotes…I might continue with that), what person will follow my blog next, what project will come next. My feelings are the most unsure of all. So expect a lot of shifts in that particular area.
For 2013, she will continue to write.
For me. Because I need to write. So if you’re following me and you don’t enjoy reading text as well, better clear up the situation now.
She has a new project. Involving people.
I’m not a people person. Better said, a group person. Not many people know that, because well… I don’t hang out with lots. I have developed a fear for the unknown, because when it becomes known, I don’t like it. So the project will be about people and maybe a little personal story on the side. Just to finally have a good mix of photography and feelings.
This girl has dreams. But she doesn’t put those on paper. She believes they’re too personal. So no words will ever show her dreams. Words may hide the dreams, but not fully reveal them. You need to know the girl to discover her dreams. Remember: her name is Ioana. Not Jo. Jo was never there. It was just an escape route to a world that doesn’t exist. It was a mean to avoid reality. Apparently, her feelings were connected a lot to that person, Jo. And it saddens her a lot.
I am Ioana. I write about feelings.