Monday, October 5, 2009

On Blogging

So here I was, staring at the screen, watching the cursor blink. That's right World, I was suffering from writer's block - that aweful, God-forsaken brick wall that allows no one entry to the vast riches of inspiration.

Sitting here, I decided to try to mine the confines of my brain for something to write about. A memory. An observation.


I know I'm supposed to only write when I have a topic to discuss. I didn't care - I wanted to write. I just didn't know what I wanted to write about.

So I started reading other people's posts. Some write about the everyday happenings of their lives. Some write about consequences. Some write about sports, about politics, about babies, about video games, about memories.

And so it got me thinking.

Part of me wonders why I do this. Am I simply looking for someone to validate my existance? Am I looking for a way to organize my confused and often chaotic thoughts? Or am I looking to simply unload some of the stuff that spirals through my mind on a daily basis? Maybe I'm trying to discover something about myself?

I don't know. I do know that the whole concept of blogging kind of blows my mind a bit. The idea that there are thousands (millions?) of people out there on this Earth, connected by a common interest. Not just connected by a common interest, but also talking about their experiences - their lives, their consequences, their sports, politics, babies, video games and memories. Millions of people, doing the same exact thing that I am. One big gigantic network, formed without even having had to meet any of them.

I have never met any of the bloggers I follow (with the exception of Pookie), and yet I know about them. I know that Aunt Becky bought her kid a pumpkin-shaped binkie. I know that Badass Geek finally figured out his allergy situation. I know that Uppity has a facination with cats. I know that the Confused Homemaker likes to bake. Dara's getting knee surgury, Cailyn is going to be a zombie for Halloween, and Emma watches the UK's version of Dancing with the Stars.

All of this I know, and more. I boggle over it every night, like a ten year old would over a particularly large arachnid.

Absolutely mind-blowing.

1 comment:

  1. Consider the following.

    A terrible reflection of people supposedly trying to help others, but actually just helping themselves.


Because I'm needy.