Disclaimer: No commenters on blogging are implicated in the writing of this blog post, nor do I harbor any bitterness toward any who have expressed the same negative thoughts I share regarding the act of blogging.
I don't take offense because, truth be told, Geoff and I have shared the same views of blogging. It is self-absorbed and narcissistic. The very act of hitting the "publish" button suggests that one believes one has something of value to communicate to the world at large. If you browse through a few blogs, you'll discover that some bloggers do have something of value to communicate and do so quite artfully, but some offer neither interest nor art. (Although, interest and art are mostly subjective...) Some are downright painful to read.
Lack of interest and art is a pity, but that's not the point of blogging. The longer I've blogged, the more I've appreciated the process of blogging. There is something therapeutic, something invigorating, something centering, something satisfying in translating jumbled thoughts into coherent sentences and paragraphs. Do bloggers always achieve the goal of coherency? No. But we try, and I imagine the feeling of having created a solidly good blog post is akin to an artist's contentment upon finishing a painting or sculpture or - to put it the artistic context to which I most clearly relate - snapping the perfect photograph. Blogging is, in a sense, short exercises in the art of language, completely independent of any desire for public approval.
Which brings me to the "publish" button... Someone might ask, "Why not just keep a journal? Why post it online? That's where it becomes really self-absorbed." Okay. Granted. But would the same question be asked of an artist displaying his work in an art gallery or, lest anyone accuse me of claiming greatness, of a child showing off his crayon drawing? The desire to share art, whether in image or word, may be self-absorbed attention-seeking behavior, but I believe, overall, it enriches the human experience. Trash abounds in either medium, but there are gems worth discovering in the wreckage of human creativity.
Additionally - to change the track of the argument - men and women engage in a multitude of self-absorbed activities. We're vain little creatures, checking our looks in the mirror, tweaking our appearances here and there. We love to talk about ourselves and can't get enough compliments. We post blurry pictures of our dinners on Facebook, expecting others to comment on what looks to them like mush. We do A LOT of self-absorbed things, secretly hoping to be noticed and affirmed. Why pick on blogging? If you don't like it, don't read it. Just don't think you're completely innocent of the same sin as the blogger.
I'm getting to the point of not caring how self-absorbed blogging is. I thoroughly enjoy the writing process, so until I have time to sit down and write that novel I've had in mind for the last several years, I will keep writing these little blog posts. Whether well written or not (and I'll be the first to admit that I am perfectly capable of writing a painful mess of nonsense), it's fun, relaxing, and in the midst of piles of laundry, dishes, and children's papers (not that I'm neglecting those things, of course... Believe me, they get plenty of my time...), my blog is mine. Do I like positive feedback? Of course. Who wouldn't, and so what? Writing a blog post is a mini-retreat, even with a kitchen band playing in the background, and if it encourages another human being in some small way, all the better.
So, yeah, I blog, and I'm not sorry.
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