Why do so many people write blogs these days? Seems like everyone and their grandmother (literally) make their personal thoughts privy to anyone in the interweb supercyberspace void. Why? What is it that makes us feel that we need to let people know whats up with us? Truth be told, I have no idea. I don’t even always know why I do it. But here’s a few reasons I’ve come up with…
My family is really feakin’ funny. And some of my stories of our weirdness seem to amuse my friends. So, that automatically means that you will find them amusing too, right? Not really. But you might and, if so, cool. If not, well…then I have no use for you. Just kidding. Sort of.
For every amusing story I may put on here, there are a plethora of others that I just can’t write. There are times when my kids and I are in the car and we are being so weird and funny and caustic that I almost have to pull over because we are laughing so hard. And I think, “I need to write this shit down!” But as soon as I think it, I know it’s impossible. It can’t be captured. Mostly because so much of the funniness is based on inside jokes or movie lines or one-liners from comedy shows. If you don’t know Christopher Titus, Tim Hawkins or Bill Cosby skits, Veggie Tales movies, Pride & Prejudice, Princess Bride, Zombieland, Boondock Saints and The Phantom of the Opera you will be completely lost and wondering why we think we are so funny. But trust me, we are freakin’ hil-airrr-eous.
So, even though some of our greatness can’t be contained by the written word, I enjoy trying to record it. Because it keeps a something from those times alive. And they are going by way too fast.
Another reason I like to blog is that I just like to write. And I like to write in my own style and with my own rules. Like my spelling of hilarious a few sentences ago. See, I know how it’s really spelled but I like to be able to rework the word so that the way you read it in your head is the way it would sound if I were there telling you the story myself and giving it my own inflections. Hopefully it works and doesn’t just make you think I flunked spelling and grammar. And I can use words like ‘amazeballs’. Plus I can cuss when I want to because it’s my fucking blog. (That statement is pretty much the literary equivalent of me sticking my tongue out.) And I can say things like ‘I don’t like Disneyland’ and ‘I hate it when people who drive a Prius drive them at 45 mph’ and ‘I love football and hockey and soccer and wrestling so much that I should be a guy’ and ‘I’m so amazingly in love with my husband and my kids’. This blog is my voice and mine alone.
Finally, it’s a way for me to connect with you, the reader, in some way. This is a weird one for me. I write on here and send these words out into the great beyond for anyone’s eyes to see whether they be stranger, friend, or acquaintance. Sometimes I say things that are quite personal and sometimes not. But each time I write it is a personal act for me and, no matter how many posts I have made, I still hesitate over the ‘Publish’ button. I’m an active writer but a reluctant blogger, I guess. The kicker is that I’m actually quite anti-social. I am happy on my own, with my family and maybe a few close friends…that’s really all I need or seek out. So this act of connecting with people, of sharing my thoughts, baffles me. And yet, I continue to do it. Although, I don’t promote my blog heavily…I still hold back from sharing it on Facebook (so far) and only have it linked to my Twitter account. It’s easier to write when I know that even though I’m putting it out there for anyone, the audience is still mainly strangers. Maybe that’s my way of being anti-social even in blog format.
So, that’s what I’ve come up with as to why I blog. I don’t know if any of it rings true for other bloggers. But, then again that’s not my concern. Why people write, in a blog or any other format, is probably pretty unique to each individual. Like finger prints. And maybe that’s the only universal reason…we are all trying to leave our fingerprints on the world, just to prove that we were here for a time.