I remember when I loved blogging. When everyday occurrences, annoyances, humorous happenings were all fodder… I loved to tell my story and, if someone else loved it too, all the better.
What the hell happened?
I’ve tried to recommit. I’ve started a new blog… I’ve thought and even attempted new projects like 365 Days of Grace... I’ve thought about NaBloPoMo… and I’ve gone um, exactly nowhere.
Perhaps I’ve given it all too much thought. Worried about the number of readers, comments, incentives… and through that worry, that concern, I lost what drew me to this forum in the first place: the rare chance to connect.
There was also a time, a glorious time, when few of my IRL people new about my blog and I felt more free to be honest and vent… to sometimes snark… and then, as the roster of carpool and coffee and cocktail chums grew, the more I began to feel caged… after all, the me of my blog wasn’t always the me of my daily life. My blog me was a sometimes more and a sometimes less honest portrayal of myself.
And of course, the children. Eva may only be six, but the boys grew up. They’re young men now and they don’t want to see their private (except for their own personal Facebook status) anything on the Internet… oh, and the drivel it is. You don’t know blog fodder until you spend a morning culling through your children’s various texts and IMs… priceless.
I’ve realized something about myself through these years of (oft sporadic) blogging: I am not very good at real life conversation and I live too much in my head. In real life I am awkward and self conscious. I think I am being clever or witty and what I am actually being is weird. I ramble and I never seem to actually get my point across quite as well as I do here in this happy corner of the Internet.
And that is what I need to remember.
Blogging isn’t about, or shouldn’t be about, review offers or Alexa standings or awards. It should be another medium to be heard.
Which means, despite the many and fitful starts and stops, I am finally back… weird rambling and all.