So there I am, sitting at a red light, between classes at school, late at night when I'm drifting in a book, and I'm thinking. I'm totally roped in. "What will my next post be?" "I wonder if anyone would comment on _____-" "Why the heck do I blog anyway?"
Why exactly DO I blog? Why do I make stuff? It isn't exactly cheaper to make it yourself, as anyone who has had to buy 12 skeins of yarn to make a sweater will testify. Or try to buy 4 yards of fabric...which has its own set of designer name brands. Why do I make stuff and blog about it?
It isn't like I'm not busy. I don't have time for most of the things I try to do. In fact, when blogs first came out, I snubbed them. I thought, "I will stay out of the next wave of what's in style and wait until it goes out of vogue" But then all these cool blogs started popping up, and I started learning stuff, and saying to myself, "why are these people taking pictures of their meals and their sewing and their knitting? What's the big deal...people have been doing this stuff for years....haven't they ever seen a housewife?" (you can tell what kind of blogs I hung out around)
It bothered me so much I finally figured out I was reacting to something....recognizing that something in the blogging community was resonating in me. So, what could I do but start blogging? I started a blog, then deleted it. I started another blog and deleted that too. I was writing to try to please someone, anyone, to have some affirmation for who I am. I was a 5-year-old bringing her finger paintings to Grandma for praise but Grandma didn't really give a hoot about my pithy attempts. I was a singer singing other people's songs. Same songs, different person, but not singing MY songs.Then I started this blog in an attempt to shut out all those other voices. You know, the ones that start their sentences with "You really should" and "why aren't you more like so-and-so?" or "That sure was stupid" " your house isn't that clean." I wanted to connect with what is genuine in me.
I have a long way to go. And that 5-year-old girl me is still there, but so is wise, kind, mother me, and she is taking care of that aching 5-year-old. And blogging has brought me gifts...it helps me realize I am an artist, helps me stay on a creative path, helps me explore a new art form. Some days I might do something just so I can blog about it (hey, I'll admit that! And I see it as positive motivation) Blogging is truly a marriage of words and images. It is writing, but a different kind of writing. And I can hopefully find my voice and sing what is real in me.
The other part of blogging that simultaneously appeals to me and repels me is the sharing/show-and-tell/showing off part. But I can totally relate. No one in my house could appreciate my art or knitting conquests like someone else who is there in the trenches, enjoying the same mind trip I am. My husband likes my creativity, but I think he sees it as my excuse to have a messy house when the kid excuse has worn thin. So with blogging, someone else could surely recognize how cool your creativity is, and you can do the same for them :) I know that sounds obvious, but I do admire humility in people, so the rampant show-and-tell initially seemed odd to me. But I'm over that now and want to share. Such potential there exists for blogging. And, as mt husband says, "It takes courage to put yourself out there." It truly does.