When I was in Ohio, I had a conversation with a lawyer friend of mine that got my wheels turning. It started out as a typical catch-up (“How’s Utah?” “It’s nice.” “Cold there?” “Yep.”) and then it turned to the inevitable “So exactly what is it that you’re doing?” Since I don’t have a job, I’m under more pressure to come up with a list of fascinating and necessary things that I get done every day. Sometimes I tell people that I’m doing some freelance writing. This is true, actually, but it makes me sound like I’m sitting in a coffee shop working on the great American novel, when in fact I’m just writing the occasional story for those newspapers and magazines that you’ve never heard of.
I also like to tell people that I’m a housewife and spend my days cooking, cleaning, and mending Kyle’s pants. This is also true, but I’ve learned that this should only be said when I’m sure that the person I’m talking to will be amused by it. I once said this lightly to someone I graduated from law school with and the look of pity that it inspired was a total conversation killer. I just had to wander away, mumbling “but I should be getting a call about that six figure job any day now.”
During the particular conversation in question, however, I gave the most honest answer I could, which is that I spend part of the day looking for jobs, part of the day picking up around the house, and the rest of my time is spent reading, writing, or blogging. This perked the interest of my lawyer friend and he asked what I was blogging about. I explained that I had a couple of different blogs, but mostly I just blogged about stuff. To which he responded, “Oh…so you just…talk about your life?”
The disappointment and disinterest in his voice was palpable. In truth, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this conversation. In fact, I’ve been on both sides of it. When someone tells you that he or she has a blog, it’s natural to immediately ask what the blog is about. When they tell you it’s about their life, don’t you always have a moment where you just think, “Oh…it’s that kind of blog…it’s not a blog about politics or cars or movies or celebrities or food. It’s just a blog about this person?” And this, my friends, makes you immediately think, “I bet that blog is a suckfest of boring.”
It also makes that person seem just a bit more self-important. After all, blogging is widely viewed as a narcissistic pastime. It’s a hobby in which you, yourself, are the thing that you’re really interested in and want to spend time thinking about. What kind of an egomaniac would sit down at a computer every single day and talk about themselves? What makes these people think that they are so much more special than everyone else…that they’re so special everyone else will be interested in reading about their daily existence? Who do these people think they are?
I caught the look of disappointment in the face of my friend and quickly changed the subject, but it stayed on my mind for days afterward. I started to wonder if I had let this blogging thing get out of hand. What started out as rants and lists and notes to self has turned into a conversation in which I naturally assume that people will tune in to participate. But who am I and what am I doing and why do I blog almost every day? At nearly 27, with two degrees under my belt, shouldn’t I find a better way to spend my time?
And then I realized something. No, I couldn’t find a better way to spend my time. Because I need this. And I don’t need it because I can’t stop talking about myself. I need it because I can’t stop talking. I think it’s a chick thing. When women get together, they don’t talk about cars and movies and politics and technology. (Well, they do, but it usually isn’t the main focus.) The women in my life get together and immediately we start talking about relationships and how we feel about things and who we feel we are as people.
I have cherished those moments with my girlfriends and coworkers and classmates. I can’t remember the names and faces of some people, but I can remember sitting down on the couch with them while they expressed secret fears about break ups or little hopes that seemed too silly to say out loud. You know that moment when you and someone else have just traded immensely personal stories and you’re just sitting together, knowing that you’re understood and not judged and not alone? I love that.
That’s what led me to blogging. By reading other people’s blogs, I started to tap into mini-conversations with strangers all over the world. Sure, I didn’t really know these people, but when I read about the stupid relationship mistakes they made or when they cracked jokes to mask their insecurities, I totally connected to them. I felt like I was more normal for making mistakes and feeling insecure. The fact that they shared these thoughts actually began to buoy me up and enrich my life. The international chatter on the Internet was as familiar and friendly as any lunch circle in my life had ever been.
That’s why I blog. I want to add to that conversation. I want to toss this stuff out there so that someone else can read it and get something out of it, even if the something is that they think I’m an idiot and they’re glad they’re not me. (Hello, law-practicing Class of ‘08!) For every person that misses the points I’m making or doesn’t agree with something I’ve thrown out there, I’ve found someone who really gets it. And even if they don’t leave me a comment or send me an email, I’ve become part of that person’s experience and hopefully I’ve made them feel just a bit more confident/happy/understood/secure/normal. I know that when I need that and I can’t get a hold of a friend, I can usually find a blog to lift up my day.
I don’t think that bloggers are self-obsessed. I think that they’re socially open. I think that they’re recreating something that is getting lost as people become more disconnected from each other. And I think that what all bloggers are doing…all of that verbal chaos and overflow of opinion…is really, really important.
Read more here:
In Defense of Bloggers Everywhere
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