I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, when I was wishing I’d blog more regularly. I’ve been at Bookish for nearly four years – since my sophomore year of college – before that, I was over at ello-poppet.net and even BEFORE that, starting in sixth grade, I was at livejournal and even before that, I had a brief fling with geocities. From first through seventh grades I kept a journal religiously.
My life isn’t really all that interesting, and I don’t have many profound things to say. So why do I bother to share?
I blog because I’m writing my own story. First and foremost, this blog is for ME. It’s a record of what I’m thinking, feeling, doing, at a certain point in time. If I say something, it’s not to hurt anyone. It’s not aimed at anyone. This blog isn’t about anyone or anything other than myself. And sometimes Eric, but he doesn’t count because I spend like 95% of my time with him and this was something he knew about before we got serious. So do I particularly care if people I know read this blog? No. But I’m not going to censor myself, no matter who reads this, for two reasons: I am vehemently opposed to censorship in any way, shape, or form, and because censoring myself would be lying to myself. I’m not going to do that.
I blog because it helps me deal with drama. That being said, there’s no reason for anyone to be offended by the things I write here. None. It’s nothing that I wouldn’t say – or haven’t said – to your face. I don’t attack anyone. I won’t say, “OMG MY SISTER IS SUCH A BITCH I CAN’T STAND HER BLAH BLAH BLAH” because a) that’s totally not true, I love my sister and b) that’s not my style. But if I’m frustrated about something, then yeah, I’m going to vent about it here. It’s therapeutic, believe it or not. To just write it down and release it to the wilds of the internet means that I let go of it emotionally. I can get over it in a way that I can’t if I simply write it down in a journal. I can’t explain it.
I blog because I like feeling like I’m a part of a little community here on the giant internet. I’ve made friends that I never would have met otherwise, and it’s fun to share my life with them and to peek into theirs. We support each other and listen to each other and it’s pretty awesome. We’re all growing up now and our posts have gotten more sporadic over time as we start our careers, follow our dreams, and even create baby families of our own, but that’s okay. It’s a chapter of my life that I’m not ready to close the door on yet.
I blog because I’m still growing as a writer. I’m still working out what I want to do with my life. I want to write more than I want almost anything else, and blogging allows me to hold myself accountable in a very public way. Bookish allows me to do that. I’ve connected with other writers and have dipped my toes into yet another community that is so warm, loving, helping and welcoming that I can’t help but want to be a part of it.
I blog because, in it’s purest, distilled form, blogging makes me happy. And I think that’s a good enough reason to do anything, don’t you?