My 200 days of blogging, 200 prompts, 146 posts, a dozen more so drafts, more than a hundred followers, a couple of hundred likes. And I’m filled with joy.
What I know is that each time I’d postsaday and that yellow orange color appears on my notification indicating someone’s reading my post instantly brings a leap of joy inside of me. One, two, five likes expands that joy into exhilaration.
Wouldn’t I’d be jumping with joy if I have a thousand likes? Thousand followers or hits? At this point what matters are those firsts, first like, first follower, who gave me that first leap of joy, a thousand more wouldn’t make much of a difference. I don’t know who was my first like or follower all my good wishes goes to him/her.
Two hundred days, 146 posts published with more or less 300 hundred word count. About six months each day expecting something new, pondering on issues putting my two cents worth, otherwise reading about others’ thought, but mindful of my own.
My days aren’t divided into hours, weeks or months, it was those thirty minutes of sitting down checking the daily prompts, of quick time travel to the past, future, an island, a festival, building my own world, meeting ordinary and freak beings, talking to inanimate objects, being good and mean at the same time, talking to famous or notorious people living or dead.
I’ve been to places where no one has been, vacations no one ever had, listening to beings no one has heard, I’ve had the fifth season, eighth sense, invented the best cure for all disease, built a perfect world.
Those thirty minutes extending to an hour or more, days and weeks when I’m impoverish with words and ideas. My days I’m counting by the daily prompts and posts that I’d draft and eventually publish. If I have to pay the bills, I’d make sure I’d save those thirty minutes a day for myself.
Midway my crusade, falling short of my post a day was lurking behind, I turned away from random ramblings and whinings “you’re not good, you have no gift of the language, you can’t make it, you’re too busy, it won’t happen, no wifi”. I came back instead I raised my word count to 500 hundred/posts.
A congratulatory sound was all I heard around me. And that first like was all I needed for confirmation.
It was 4800 hours for 200 days, 3200 for living and making money out of which 600 hours for blogging. I woke up at 4, 6, 7 am. Stayed late or slept early, went out with friends and family or stayed by myself, I made money to pay the bills. I travelled around.
Did I miss anything? Yes, I think I miss something. Worrying about what to wear, what to buy, what to eat, what to do when not doing anything. That’s my least worry and need not worry about.
I could still hear those congratulatory sound of flattering silence each time a like/follow button is pressed.
Thank you, YES YOU!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Kindness of Strangers.”