Blogging is weird.
My Dad once said that he didn't get the idea of a public journal. I guess I should have reminded him about all the self-publishing urges that proceeded the blog. The Letter to The Editor writer? That's a pre-blogger. The toilet graffiti artist is a frustrated blogger, and the sky-writer might just be the "celebrity" blogger that has so much traffic that they have sponsors and so many comments that they have to turn them off...
I was explaining the blog phenomonen to a friend over the weekend, and suprised myself with the explanation of why I do it.
It started as a way to show my art, and it still is primarily. It has also become a convenient story-telling site for whoever happens to be interested (my mind flicks to the scene in Julie and Julia where she happily receives her first comment on a post and opens it only to find it's from her Mum).
For me it's so much better than an actual journal because the fact that I have to express myself coherently is a writing exercise, which is really nice. It also means I can actually understand myself when I go back to read it.
The downside is that sometimes I have to read through my own lines to remember what I was actually feeling on any given day, because I can't bare all on here, just can't. It's strange that the majority of blogs I read are big, soft, intimate spilling types.
That allows for connection with others which is probably, really, what it's all supposed to be about.
My Dad once said that he didn't get the idea of a public journal. I guess I should have reminded him about all the self-publishing urges that proceeded the blog. The Letter to The Editor writer? That's a pre-blogger. The toilet graffiti artist is a frustrated blogger, and the sky-writer might just be the "celebrity" blogger that has so much traffic that they have sponsors and so many comments that they have to turn them off...
I was explaining the blog phenomonen to a friend over the weekend, and suprised myself with the explanation of why I do it.
It started as a way to show my art, and it still is primarily. It has also become a convenient story-telling site for whoever happens to be interested (my mind flicks to the scene in Julie and Julia where she happily receives her first comment on a post and opens it only to find it's from her Mum).
For me it's so much better than an actual journal because the fact that I have to express myself coherently is a writing exercise, which is really nice. It also means I can actually understand myself when I go back to read it.
The downside is that sometimes I have to read through my own lines to remember what I was actually feeling on any given day, because I can't bare all on here, just can't. It's strange that the majority of blogs I read are big, soft, intimate spilling types.
That allows for connection with others which is probably, really, what it's all supposed to be about.
I get that you just can't 'bare all'. But your blog is always a delight and does that balance between art and life beautifully. This I type after publishing the world's longest post! At this moment I would like to hold back a whole lot more. But it was cathartic, a writing exercise and I owed it to me and my daughter. If it wasn't for a blog I would never have written it. (I pledge short and snappy for the rest of the year!)...
ReplyDeleteAn interesting and thought provoking post! I'm a fairly private person by nature, so I even I find it curious that I blog.
ReplyDeleteStrange isn't it?
ReplyDelete