Hello, you. Whoever you are: Random stranger. Friend. Husband. Bored person about to quit this tab.
The first time I started writing in a diary, I was probably about 7 years old. I don’t remember what that diary looked like, but I remember spending about 40 minutes picking out the “perfect” notebook for it at a stationary shop in Jeonju, South Korea, driving my halmeoni (grandmother in Korean) crazy as she waited and loitered around, asking repeatedly if I’ve finally made my choice. But given that it was the first written record of my personal and private thoughts, I wanted it to fit me, who I am– though in a roundabout way, writing in a diary was how I tried to figure out who I am.
I also remember, even then at that age, writing with the consciousness of a possible future reader. Perhaps it would be my omma, snooping through my things (she definitely did that a few times). Perhaps it would be my future children, if I had any. Perhaps it would be an archaeologist numerous generations ahead in the future, excavating a site and blowing dust off a yellowed diary of a child. Whoever it would be, I was acutely conscious of that anonymous reader’s eyes as I wrote my childish thoughts, desires, and emotions onto the blank pages. Thus I wrote for an unknown audience, and still kept the innermost hidden private thoughts to myself. The diary was private, yet written to be read, because I wanted it to be read, wanted someone– anyone– to understand me, even if some diary entries were written in the heat of raging emotions, tear-stained and streaked with cuss words. And of course, the first reader was always me.
This blog is for myself, hence the name: Writing for Sophia. I write primarily for the first reader, me. Writing for me is the most efficient way to clean and organize and filter the clutter of dusty, amorphous, tangled, unformed thoughts in my mind. Writing for Sophia also means writing for the definition of my name: Wisdom. I write with the goal of not just expressing myself, but seeking wisdom beyond myself. Often the Spirit of God works in silence and solitude, but it also works when I behold and ponder, when I lay out my subconscious thoughts and examine it under full broad light before God.
So why not write in a journal rather than a public blog? Because I have no idea where that old diary went, but online entries last forever. Because, like the 7-year-old me, I still write with the consciousness of a reader. Writers write because they love to capture and share a piece of their world. Some inner thoughts and private moments are meant to be treasured solely between God me, and maybe some close loved ones. Those won’t make it to this blog. But these posts will still be honest, vulnerable, raw– and hopefully, resonate with someone. Perhaps you.
Again, hello. I don’t know who you are, but I write for myself and wisdom, and I write also with you in mind.