The Blogging Hobby

This is a pretty strange hobby, the blogging. Maybe I'm not the only one who kept some sort of a diary when they were younger, but I would never let anyone near mine. It's as though I was writing down my thoughts and feelings for me, which is strange because I always know what my thoughts and feelings are.

I guess I thought I would leave it as some sort of historic marker or something because, after all, when I was 17 years old I thought I was going to amount to something. There was no way on God's Blue Earth that I was going to grow up and be - well - ordinary.

As time passed, I realized that not only would I grow up to be ordinary, I would also grow up having a stifled voice. That is, until now.

I'm still writing down my thoughts and feelings, but I don't hide the book anymore. I do sometimes hide what I am doing, though. Yesterday, a co-worker who reads it said something out loud about "reading it on your blog." Egad, woman - do you want everyone to know I'm doing this? To my knowledge, only two or three people at work follow the exploits here. Any more than that and I may have to start a new one under a pseudonym. Mind My Sick.

There is still that part of me that wants to hide the book, but the book is in the room, but unless you trip over it, you'd never know it was there. So I don't let people trip over it too often. I want them to feel like Internet Explorers and discover it on their own, without any help from me. It's part of the fun.

The other part is that - jeez - do I want to walk into work every day and have people squinting at me because I said that I wanted a soap container that dissolved in water? What're you looking at? I spend good chunks of my day avoiding most of them, so why on Earth would I want to draw them closer?

I printed up little business cards with the site address on them that I was going to leave randomly, to see who would come in. I think I've left maybe one. The business cards are hiding in the book.

All of which leaves me with why. Why do I do this? Why does an intensely personal person want the random Earth to read his innermost thoughts and feelings, but he won't tell the people he knows? Why do I even feel the need to write them down to begin with? Most people view writing like a root canal. "Do I have to?" Yes, and I have to post something every day, because I don't want people to think I'm dead. So, as a result of my weakness, you are forced to put up with a lot of crap - and this.

I woke up one morning and said, "It's a nice day. I wish I could put my life on the Internet." Then, a ghost appeared and said, "And so you shall!" There it was. Blogger. My prayers were answered by a faceless, nameless stranger. Thank you, masked man.

For those of you who read and write, have you thought about why you do it, or did it come about as easily as wearing shoes every day? Sometimes the shoes are a little tight, but sometimes we tie them too tight, you know? For those of you who read but don't - you know - don't ... Have you ever thought of doing it? Is it the writing part or the personal exposure part that keeps you from doing it? Or, as a great man once said, "Maybe you just don't wanna." That's a reason, too.

I don't know. All this inner light jazz is exhausting.