Eleven Years in Review

I just skimmed through my old blog posts...didn't take long, there really isn't much here.  I was struck by how loose and conversational my style used to be.  I just really wrote right out of my head, like I was talking to a friend on the phone, and that was that.  Goofy.  Confessional.  Very different from the way I tend to write now, with an ear for who might be listening, what people might think of me, how I might be judged both on and offline for what I wrote on my blog.

I've come a long way from those early days, now that I'm entrenched in a career (it was hard not knowing what I wanted to do or where I wanted to work!), a family (so funny to think of how hard it was to make friends - now I barely have time to see the ones I have!), a marriage (actually my relationship with Jim is still awesome and goofy, and he's still the only person I really can't get enough time with).

When I sit down to write, I think about what I should write about.  I think in terms of little articles.  Hook, middle, conclusion.  Topics.  Relevancy.  Controversial topics.  When I read what I used to write, it's not at all like that.  It's a smattering of random thoughts.  Like I had no audience, which I didn't, which I don't.  It doesn't make me sad at all that only a handful of people might still have this link, might be actually seeing this.  Actually, it's freeing.  I have that lovely Wordpress blog, but my photo is on it.  The blog itself has more photos on it, it's lovely.  It's bright, clean, friendly.  Only a handful of people know that one too, but for some reason I feel safer and cozier right here.

Pretty much five days into every blogging attempt I've ever made (and I keep making them...inexplicably...) I start to worry.  Why am I doing this?  Isn't my print journal, the one that's hidden and no one ever looks at, enough for me?  Who would ever want to read what's in my head?  Why would I ever put my thoughts on random stuff into such a permanent medium, where just anyone can run across it and read it?  Why would I put myself out for judgement when I have no interest in being judged?  I'm still not sure what the Call of the Blog is, but it is a bug that bites me periodically.  Right up there with the Call of the Garden and the Urge to make Cupcakes.

On the other hand, the blogs I like to run across and read for awhile are the ones that are personal, random, and funny (I'm not making any claims to be funny here, but sometimes I am a little funny in person).  The blogs that are made the way they tell you to blog - with focus, branding, posts every single day, links to stuff, bells and whistles, and the Top 7 Things You Never Knew About X just don't hold my attention for very long.  I see those posts making viral rounds on Facebook, and I'm sure their authors make money from all that traffic, but it's not as interesting to me personally as getting to know someone's voice and life through their unfiltered blog.  So perhaps it's reading lovely daily bits from bloggers like the Yarn Harlot that inspires me to rattle away on my keyboard periodically, or perhaps it's just a touch of narcissism, or delusion, or the urge to live forever.  Anyhow, here I am, temporarily, semi-anonymously (although not so anonymous as I probably ought to be), in this lovely pink space (I've left it untouched for about 10 years, and intend to leave it exactly like this - keeping it old school!!!), rattling off inanities.  Just like I do in real life.