Saturday, March 06, 2010

Why do I blog?

There is something terribly wrong with me and I can only communicate effectively through the written word.
It makes me feel better about myself, the world, and everyone else.
It helps me make sense of things.
There is a beauty in language that keeps drawing me back.
It feels more permanent when so many other things feel fleeting and intangible.
I like to talk and no one wants to listen this much.
Keyboards make a pretty, pretty sound when I click away.
I feel like if someone really wants to know what I'm thinking, they now have a place to find it.
I'm not consistent, disciplined, or brave enough to write a book. Yet.
If I don't post it on the internet and there is no chance anyone will ever read it, it doesn't feel like I wrote anything at all.
I'm secretly hoping someone will fall madly in love with me simply by reading my ridiculous, honest, repetitive, emotional, confused ramblings.
If I don't leave a record of where I've been and how I felt about it, how will I measure progress?
These posts are like snapshots of the real me. The one you don't see in photos.
I have a lot to say.
I am selfish and vain!
This gives me something satisfying to do with my random bits of free time.
If I want to, I could type away in a coffee shop and people would think I was up to something important.
My friend had a blog way back when I wanted to try it. I'm not usually very consistent and I don't stick with things often. This turned out to be an exception.
I have a hard time saying things I need to say to people. To faces. With my mouth. But I often wish they could read the words I say to them here.
Sometimes there are things I need to say to a person that they don't actually need to hear.
It makes me feel heard.
I need to keep up my typing skills for work. (Lies!)
Sometimes I think I'm clever and I amuse myself by arranging words and sentences and ideas in clever ways.
I'm convinced that if I write enough, my spelling will improve. It hasn't happened yet.
Since graduation I feel like my brain is deteriorating. This is my attempt to slow the decay.
I don't want to watch TV.
I don't want to be like everyone else.
I don't want to live a life unexamined.
I don't want to be invisible, unheard, and silent.
I like the way it feels.
I like to read over things I wrote ages ago.
It keeps me in the practice of writing.
Because I must.

No comments: