Today I’m going to blog* about…blogging*. It’s a bit of a challenge for me, writing posts of any substance on a regular basis. A lot of the time it feels like a chore. But I feel like I have to do it, and more than that for some reason I want to do it. I read a lot of blogs daily and I really enjoy getting that insight into someone else’s life. Sure, mostly it’s voyeuristic nosiness, but they’re also funny, smart, informative, inspirational. I used to read the newspaper online everyday to feel like I was up to date with what’s going on in the world. Now I read blogs and it’s like talking to my friends–the day’s events (public and extremely personal) synthesized by regular people. It’s not nearly as depressing as the news. I’m fascinated by how and why blogs start and evolve. So many people have turned their blogs into real, and very lucrative, jobs (though many not)! Books deals abound, it seems. But it all happens organically (at least it appears so). They start in order to have something to do, to have a way to share their projects/kids/recipes/advice/etc, as an exercise in personal growth, to write, etc. Somehow they get a loyal following of readers and local then national media pick up on it and before they know it they’re famous. Is this really how it works? I’m amazed by the phenomenon.
Furthermore, all of these people claim to get so much out of the connections they make through blogging. The response from their readership provides immense personal reward and friendship. As I get older and see the opportunities for making new friends with which I have things in common decrease exponentially, and as virtual connections between people become ever stronger, this aspect of blogging is appealing. I also think that as relationships continue to become more virtual it’s important to establish your own virtual identity, especially if you hope to build a business where people might find you through Google.
I’ve always had a problem with keeping a journal, though. I love the idea of being reflective and having your feelings captured to look back on later in life. There’s no denying I’m an overly analytical person, but for some reason writing it down makes me very uncomfortable. Maybe because it forces me to really think through things, and come to realization and conclusions I may not like? Or I’m just lazy? And reading back through it makes me cringe! Makes me feel like the world would be better off if I hadn’t written my thoughts down. But I’ve been thinking that maybe I’m letting myself off too easy, and if I push through the challenge I’ll realize the reward. I think I can, I think I can… Apologies in advance for the many more rambling, uninteresting posts to undoubtedly come!
* I think you should know that in my house we call it a “blob” and “blobbing” as a reference to my grandmother’s original misunderstanding of what my brother’s new online journal was called. We think it’s much funnier that way. True to our affinity for potty humor, we have taken it to the next level of ridiculousness and it has recently become a euphemism for farting (and now I really can’t believe I’m writing this), after one of us (names will be omitted to protect the innocent) suggested to the other one of us that that person start a blob to track the abundant activity they produced in that area. So now there are sporadic announcements of someone having just blobbed in the other room so the other person maybe shouldn’t go in there until the blob dissipates. We’re freaks, I know.