Why I Blog

I really debated about the whole blogging thing for quite awhile. I have several friends who regularly blog, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it myself. I kept thinking that it would be too revealing (Do I really want to put parts of my life out there for anyone to read?), too self-indulgent (Maybe some things are best kept stuffed deep in a box and not thought about and analyzed too much), and doubted that anyone would really care to read my blog (Honestly, my life is not that adventurous and exciting. Reading my blog is not going to fulfill anyone's escapist fantasies.).

The opportunity to preserve some family memories for my children finally motivated me to start writing, however. I do not scrapbook. I have all the supplies and materials to do so, but the thought of cutting ribbons and cute templates just does not appeal to me. Furthermore, I have several years' worth of pictures piled up to label and shove in photo boxes or the cheap albums that you just slide pictures into. I do feel guilty about this area of disorganization in my life. I keep meaning to work on the pictures, but I just never get around to it. By this point, the task seems so daunting that I just continue to shy away from it. But I do want to maintain everyday memories, like Car Guy's found-object art and Curly Girl's tutu-dress-up fixation, for my kids and I to reminisce about down the road. Around New Year's, a high school friend, Debi, wrote about creating a blog book from all of her posts from 2008. It then dawned on me that blogging would be a way to preserve our year without involving multi-colored pens and sticky tabs. By the way, Patrick, I would like a 2009 blog book for my birthday next year.

So I started blogging to further avoid scrapbooking, but I keep writing because it is just so cathartic. I do not talk about my feelings. They basically stay locked away inside myself to percolate and rumble around. I have feelings, doubts, and insecurities like anyone else, but I prefer to maintain a facade of "all is well." I'll convincingly tell you that everything is fine even when it very much may not be. I'll live an entire lifetime, sort through, and ruminate over issues completely in my head without involving anyone else. I know, I think too much, but I doubt that is going to change anytime soon. I have found, however, that I can more satisfactorily process my thoughts by writing about them. That's it; I write so I don't have to talk. If I write about it, I can pretend that I actually had a conversation with someone without having to really do so.

I am so much more comfortable communicating via written word than by any other medium. When writing, I can reread a note before sending it, and I'm such a visual person that I love having written words that I can look at again and again. I am also not a good phone-talker. It's flattering when a friend cares enough to pick up the phone and call, but with the kids running around, it is often hard to concentrate on the conversation. Furthermore, I tend to have verbal diarrhea. That's when you don't quite know what to say, so you ramble off on some random topic and before you know it, you have opened your mouth and inserted your foot. A real-life one-on-one conversation with a friend would be great, but hanging out at the soccer field or running in-and-out of the house to the kids' activities, doesn't exactly lend itself to baring your soul to another human being.

Blogging has had one drawback, however. I am not completely comfortable with people mentioning my blog to me in real-life. Old (meaning length of time known, not age) and close friends, you're fine. You've been around so long and seen me in some of my less-than-stellar moments that I'm an open book to you anyway. What I mean, though, are people that you try to maintain the facade "of everything is fine" with, but I guess that comes with the territory of blogging. Remember, I write about it so I don't have to talk about it. But, who knows, perhaps blogging will help me be more open to others and their thoughts and feelings. For now, I'm going to stay in my box, though. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.