I’ve been missing blogging. For my birthday this year, I want to give myself the gift of blogging. Writing has always been important to me, not just as a hobby, but also as a way to process things and for my mental and spiritual health. Writing online has been a great creative outlet for me in the past, but lately I’ve held back more than I’ve poured out.
In the 8 years that I’ve been writing online, the atmosphere has shifted. I’ve watched other bloggers become published authors, build brands, create really nice products and podcasts and websites, start non-profit organizations. I’ve also watched them be torn to shreds by critics who just don’t get it or just don’t like it or just don’t even seem to have comprehended it.
I’ve watched interests and engagement shift among those in my life who I’ve known to have been my readers. I’ve connected online to more people that only know me partially and may misunderstand me or judge me harshly by what I write or share online.
I’ve watched the change in the way information is consumed and shared online. I’ve watched fluff and junk and clickbait flood my social media streams (I’m looking at you, Facebook). I’ve watched people lash out, make false assumptions, overgeneralize, and completely abandon critical thinking skills. I’ve watched people rashly draw lines and pick sides without really reading or listening or thinking. I’ve watched my own words dry up, slink backwards, cover themselves up in the midst of it all.
I want my blog to be a lot of things, but it can’t be anything if I don’t write anything. I’ve created a new blog every few years as my focus changes, as blogging changes. This year, I don’t want to change the name, I don’t want to start a new blog, I just want to blog the way I used to – stream of consciousness, opinion pieces, life and family updates, random musings, sharing things that are funny or interesting or inspiring to me. Maybe there’s no brand, no book deal, no portfolio, no product, no titles crafted with clickability in mind, no particular focus, no really category. Maybe it’s just me making something that is mine and maybe people will read it and maybe people won’t and maybe I won’t care quite so much either way.
Here’s to the road before me, age thirty-three.