Today, Marocharim.com turns two years old.
Technically, The Marocharim Experiment was “born” on November 9, I-don’t-know-when, but I like to think of it as all grown up. A couple of years ago, I really didn’t know what I can do with my blog. I wasn’t interested in making money or being famous – after six, seven years or so of blogging, I haven’t got either or both – but I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t go places and I just remained where I am. Or was… I really should watch my grammar.
Or at the very least, a sense of fulfillment. While my comment forms will never be full of the thoughts of readers and admirers (if I have them) and the mantle wouldn’t be full of accolades and awards, there’s nothing like the sense of fulfillment that comes with getting through the day, making it out alive, and having something to write about in the evening.
It’s 7:09 PM, September 15th. Here I am, writing on a space (of the virtual kind) that has been around for a couple of years. Nothing to be proud of, really, in the grand scheme of things we should be proud about. Heck, for some people, it wouldn’t even be worth whatever. Things like girlfriends, for example. LOL.
A sad, boring, miserable existence for some, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It has been a magic carpet ride of self-discovery, the more-than-occasional guilt-trips, lyrics translations (yes, I just had to put that in), and doing my bit to change the world. A year ago, I probably wouldn’t have done that. I wouldn’t have been stone-cold crazy to tell the Government to stick it, to talk about the jologs, or to write about what’s wrong and what I think should be done to make things right. I would have been mortified by the thought of an impeachment complaint, or a manifesto, or even a trackback.
Back then, I couldn’t have dreamed of having a wee bit of cred. I wouldn’t have dreamed of writers’ workshops, appearing in small bits on TV, or writers and journalists and bloggers shaking my hand and telling me they already heard of – or know – who I am. I wouldn’t have bet on people waiting for what I have to say. I would have just quietly brooded in a little corner of my little room and didn’t do anything about what was taking place outside me.
Has anything changed? Not really. I’m still painfully shy, I’m still brooding in my little corner of the world, I’m still murmuring my sentences, and I still am uncomfortable being introduced.
The world outside isn’t probably any better than it was a year ago. Me writing stuff and doing my schtick – writing stuff – probably didn’t result in anything meaningful or significant. But I was able to let it out… that has to count for something.
Over the years (way before this site even existed), I’ve had the distinct honor and the privilege to stand on the shoulders of giants, and I continue to know more and more of them as each day passes. I continue to learn more and more new ideas, perspectives, and issues. And I continue to write. Every night – and I seriously have to find a way to make this complete soon – I feel more and more at ease with calling myself a writer more than I do call myself a lyrics translator.
Not a particularly good one or a respected one, but a writer nonetheless. After all, isn’t that what I do here? So what’s stopping me from calling myself one? I don’t know yet. I’ll give it another year. Let me just see where that takes me, and if it will take any longer.
I’ve met a lot of people, I’ve made a lot of friends, and I made the occasional enemy (and kicked his ass and used the carcass as a doormat on the way to the beerhouse, hah, I wish) on the way, and it will just be difficult for me to write down every one of their names. You guys and gals know who you are, and let me just say that you made this year one of the awesomest years in six, seven so years of blogging. And if I count my years starting with September, maybe the best year of my life. I don’t know, I don’t bank on the future, but I don’t back out of hope either.
I’m not a public figure, I’m not a blog superstar, and I certainly am not going to wear a pink shirt anytime soon. All I know is that I’m going to keep writing. And I’m going to keep folding paper cranes… or fish or airplanes, whatever topak I have for the moment. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to translate a shitload of lyrics just because I can. LOL.
Over the past year, I’ve done stuff that still leave me bewildered, a little bit guilty, and a wee bit paranoid… and no, I’m not talking about translating all those songs in one big megapost. I don’t know about other bloggers and their claims to significance and importance, but I’m not one for statistics and graphs and numbers. I just write because it feels just so damn good. Because writing is one of those things that matter most to me.
But in case you’re looking for a President-impeaching, sT1cKyCaPs-Wr1t1n6, Government-hating, person-conscienticizing, manifesto-drafting, all-out-crazy lyrics translator who has told golf-club-wielding officials to stick it and so on and so forth…
Well, my name is Marocharim.
Thank you, each and every one of you, for making this blogging year worth it. My blog’s all grown up… and I guess I can say the same for myself as well. Maraming, maraming salamat po.