Confessions of a former blog snob

I've been trying to figure out lately why blogs are so interesting to follow.  You may not think so, but I'm guessing if you're reading this, you're at least mildly interested in what blogs have to offer.

For the longest time, I sort of looked down my nose at the world of blogging.  First, the idea of publishing oneself seemed a bit egotistical.  Good writers get found, they don't shout from the rooftop, "Look at me! Look at me!" Oh how naive I've been.

The other reason is that it feels so very public.  I've spent my whole life trying not to be noticed.  Ahem, I've spent my whole life trying to look like I'm not trying to be noticed.  All of us want to be known (It's why we devote so much of our lives to the cultivation of meaningul relationships.  And this is very good, by the way. We should.). But I have never liked the feeling of deliberately broadcasting myself.  It feels too much like bragging when you have nothing to brag about.  I've always thought that bloggers tend to let the details of their lives flap around in the breeze like so many pairs of undewear on a clothes line.  You're not really sure if the neighbors notice your panties billowing in the breeze, because maybe they're not looking over at your yard in the first place.  On the other hand, they might be watching, and if they are, they're getting an eyefull.  So, blogging? Not for me.  And yet...

It all started very innocently when I began to read other people's blogs--blogs on sewing, cooking, gardening, remodeling, mothering, special needs, and on and on.  It seems as if everyone is blogging about something these days.  Some blogs are wonderful--I've learned, laughed, cried, and even found myself "amen-ing" a few times.  Some blogs are awful; those are the ones where I shake my head and say, "See, this is why I don't blog."

So, why the sudden conversion?  I've decided it has to do with being at home so much.  I've always been a people watcher.  One of my favorite places is the airport, and not because I love to fly.  I actually have severe anxiety when it comes to flying. (For example, many years ago, I seriously contemplated canceling a trip to Germany because I dreamt my plane would crash.) Anyway, I love airports because of all the stories they contain.  I've often sat in crowded public places or driven down busy roads contemplating that each seat, each vehicle contains a very complex, fascinating life story fraught with joy and sorrow, good and evil, success and failure.  I've even tried to write some of those stories in my head as I watch people zooming about me.  Now, I spend my days watching three small children emerge into the world, and it is just as fascinating and so much lovelier and dear.  But part of me misses being out in the world. My imagination, lacking exercise, atrophies a bit without the real life material that used to trigger its storytelling.

Enter blogging.  I can people watch from the comfort of my own home, in a chair while nursing a baby around the clock, or wiping runny noses, or folding laundry.  I can watch perfect strangers from afar and not just imagine their stories, but actually read them.  I can stay in touch with far away friends who blog about their passions, thoughts, beliefs, and daily lives. I get to connect with them in a way that a fiften minute chat on the phone once a week with children screaming in the background just doesn't permit. A little slice of heaven for the avid observer living in temporary isolation.

I think bloggers on the whole are a group of thoughtul, conscientious people who long to know and be known.  Blogging is so wildly popular because it touches on that basic human need.  Whether or not someone reads this entry or any other entry matters very little. It is in the writing that we do the work of opening ourselves up and making a little sense out of our lives. 

Blogging creates a potential space in which we might begin to know ourselves and others just a bit better. If, for example, you're a mother who blogs and you read other mothers' blogs, you realize you're not alone in this whole crazy mothering business.  On a ten minute break where everyone just happens to be occupied, I get a little recharge by reading my friend's entry for the day.  "Yup," you might hear me muttering. "Been there. Felt that."

And presto, I'm not alone anymore. 

We live in a culture that increasingly isolates us from one another.  Though blogging isn't quite the medicine of sitting down with a cup of coffee to chat with an old friend across the table from you, it's still something.  When the thought of bundling three little people up in coats and hats and mittens, coralling them all to the car, and driving anywhere makes my head spin, a brief foray into someone else's world is a welcome way to remind myself of life beyond my front door.

Why do I keep a blog?  Because I miss you all!  And maybe you miss us, too.  So, I fill the interludes between our meetings with words and pictures.  I wish I could have coffee with each one of you each day, but I can't.  So for now...we keep in touch this way, in hopes that someday soon we'll be sharing good food, laughter and memories in one another's real company real soon.

Until then...read on.