Even 6 months ago, if I could look ahead and see that I'd be keeping up regular blog posts my response would have been, "No way." I never thought blogging had a role in my life, never thought I could keep up the enthusiasm, and never thought anyone would care. What I've learned is that blogging has become something unexpected in my life, at once a type of therapy and a creative outlet; my form of art.
I've learned that the short, concise post is my forte.
I've learned that it's fun to find the daily topic in the mixed up soup of my brain.
I've learned that some posts flow out of me easily and some require several hours of editing and re-work.
I've learned that it's easier than I thought to write respectfully and (hopefully) avoid anyone getting annoyed, angered, or enraged over my words. The key for me is to write largely about my feelings and temper the depth and intensity where appropriate.
I've learned that getting the words on "cyber-paper" (I do print out all my posts and put them in a binder....not sure why, it's the old fashioned in me) is clarifying and cleansing for me. Basically, to organize jumbled thoughts into crisp language that conveys my feelings is therapy.
I've learned that I am an artist. I don't paint, draw, design, or create with my hands (typing excluded) but what I write and re-write for this blog is my creative expression. It comes as close to rendering me as the person I am as any other motif.
I've learned that I am OK showing the quirky, vulnerable, self-absorbed, and neurotic sides of who I am.
I've learned, not so curiously, that the reason Denny does not read my blog is that he knows all this stuff already. Although it strikes me as weird, I accept it.
MM and I have shared our thoughts about blogging, about who is reading our posts, and how some are put off by the format or seemingly disinterested in using the blog to keep up with what's going on in our lives. Blog reading is certainly not for everyone; I get that. For some the traditional letter, phone call, or in-person catch-up is preferred. I would respond by saying that these more conventional means of communication, although one-on-one and therefore potentially very personal, are but one dimension of who we are and what we have to give. This is especially true for me. I could never begin to share the depth or intensity of feeling to so many in a hurried telephone conversation or the all too inhibited social gathering. To those who can accomplish this in these venues, I applaud you. My social phobias run deep and I simply can't get there with the authenticity that I find in blogging.
I've had one friend say that in all the years of knowing each other, she learned more about me by reading my blog than she ever did "in person". And that, dear reader, is my point.