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This blog is dead. I’ve closed up shop here and moved on over to my own domain.
I keep asking myself that question. I’ve typed it into google too, to see why other people do. I don’t really give a shit why other people do, but I was interested in reading it to see if anything they said sparked anything in me. It didn’t.
I understand the value in writing things out. I am very textual. Writing helps me think. Writing helps me remember. Writing helps me get over and around and through. Words are my connection to myself, hiding somewhere inside the noise. Words are also my enemy, as it is so hard to find any silence.
So yeah, I totally get keeping a journal. And by “get it” I don’t me that I understand the idea behind it or get why some people do it. I GET IT. It makes sense to me, intrinsically. Blogging, sharing this stuff publicly, I don’t “get”. Again, I am not asking anyone else to defend or explain themselves. I’m just talking about me.
I know why is started blogging, not here, elsewhere. I started blogging just to get unstuck. I had writers block and being as textual as I am, writers block is a mentally fatal disease. So writing something, anything, it didn’t matter what, became important. And writing something unimportant, that I was willing to just toss out there in a casual manner, was easier than writing something important. I had a reason to blog.
Then I kept blogging, past my set goal date. Why did I do that? I had a reason for that to. I did it because it had become a convenient way to pass some information along to people that I already knew. Those people were interested in what I had to say, at least some vague value of interested. It was a way to keep in touch.
Then I met some new people through blogging, and I made a couple of important connections. That was surprising and it was nice and it was important. I shall always be grateful for blogging because of that.
But now? Well, I’ve met them. I don’t need blogging to meet them. I don’t need blogging to keep in touch with them. As a form of communication, I’m not find blogging very fulfilling, I’d rather gtalk or email for communication.
Why does it matter? It doesn’t really. I could just not blog. The problem is, I have a blog, or several. I have all these things out there. I am a packrat to my core, and I am a total digital packrat too, and sometimes all the having puts pressure on me to do something with it, which makes it seem more like I just have a lot of stuff because I use a lot of stuff, and not just because I have a mental problem.
So then, I look at this blog, or that one, or the other one down the block, just sitting there, unblogged upon, and I feel stress. I’m already all filled up on stress. So, at the moment I am feeling a bit of a use it or lose it push, an internal push. Something in me saying “Blog or delete the fuck out of it.”
So, I wonder, “Why blog?” The answer is, “I don’t know.”
That is the answer after all this typing. The typing was good. The typing helped me think, even though it didn’t give me a strongly actionable answer. But typing this is not blogging. It isn’t blogging until I put it out there for other people to see, or maybe, it isn’t blogging until somebody else actual does read it. If I put this out there, and somebody reads it, will that answer my question? Will somebody else reading it be a positive experience for me, or a negative one? Will it encourage me to post again, or delete everything? Will it just continue to leave me with a general sense of limbo (not the dance)?
So, this is possibly one of my new homes on the web.
Yes. New, even though there are posts already here. I’ve been blogging online for years now, but not on wordpress.
I decided to move over a select few posts from the past. Most of the old posts, I just left where they were. I decided where I was wasn’t working for me.
I don’t know if it will work here either.
However, I am here, to give it a try. Perhaps try is a strong word. I’ll give it a half-assed attempt. Maybe.
The connection between the mind and the keyboard hasn’t been strong lately. Lots and lots of thoughts, but very little typing.