Why Do I Blog?


That's a question I've been seeing around a lot in the last week after BlogHer 08. And I've been pondering it. I'll think about it as I'm reading a book. I'll think about it when I'm in the bathroom (what? don't try to tell you don't think in there too, I won't believe it). I'll think about it when I'm getting ready for bed or watching tv. I've been thinking. And the answer is...

I. Don't. Know.

I know why I started blogging. It was because Cat did it. And because I found other people who blogged. And it was easier to reply to their blogs if I have a sign-in.

And then I started wondering what I wanted to do. Should I stay in Montreal? Or should I quit my job and move to Toronto? I needed a place to write it out...to wonder. Because I didn't have many people I could talk to about it. I was 25 years old, single, unhappy and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.

And then I moved. And I kept blogging. Because I was wondering what I wanted to do and how I was going to do it. Where would I find a job? What kind of job would I find? Oh right and I lived with roomies from hell which was always interesting for the blog (if not enjoyable to live through). And then I found a job. And then I started a book blog because I needed someplace to talk about all these books I was reading. And then I moved out on my own (thank freaking goodness). I was 26 years old, single, happy, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life but things were going ok.

And then I was 27 years old, single, and not entirely happy (although my evil vile neighbours had been evicted which greatly improved things). I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life or how I was going to do it. In a less than a day while on vacation in Montreal I decided to move back there. I worked from home so it wouldn't matter where I lived. I found an apartment in 20 minutes. It was kismet I thought. So I moved back.

And I was 28 years old, single, still not entirely happy and living in Montreal. I loved my apartment. Hated my job. I met a guy but was unsure for a long time. And then I wasn't. And then I quit my job. And then shit happened. And then that guy moved in. And then we moved to Ottawa.

And now I'm 29 years old, not single, happy, and living in Ottawa. And I don't know what I want to do with my life or how I'm going to do it. I have no job (am searching). But I have good support behind me - including the people that read this blog and that I only know (or mostly only know) online.

Some of this was blogged openly. Some wasn't. Somewhere along the line I stopped blogging about stuff. I stopped using this as *my* space. I saw it as an open forum where I had to be guarded. I'm not sure why. Maybe I had seen too many other bloggers get burned. Maybe I was scared. Maybe I wasn't ready to be questioned about things. Maybe I was afraid to be challenged to look at things. Maybe I was lost and I wasn't ready to get found.

I've never been a naked blogger and I'll never be fully naked. There will be always be things that don't get mentioned on this blog. People, names, events. I'll never be a sex blogger. I'll probably never be fully open about my relationship on here. Some things are for myself.

But so is this space. And for the last year ok let's be honest, for a very long time the stuff on this blog has been filler. Not fake but filler. I had veered away from personal blogging. There were times when I've struggled to keep up my other blogs.

Maybe I haven't blogged about my life because I didn't feel there was much to blog about. But I've been thinking about that and I've decided that's bullshit. The bloggers I like most are the ones that blog about themselves, about their experiences. I relate to the personal experience - maybe it's the anthropologist in me. Maybe I've always been more comfortable to be the reader and not the writer.

Maybe I'm scared.

Maybe I'm scared to take myself seriously. Because then I'll have to be accountable for things. Maybe I'm scared to figure out what it is that I want to do because I'll discover that I've gone about it the wrong damn way (honestly it usually is the path I take...). Maybe I was so focused on getting an education I never stopped to think about what life would be like after or what I wanted to do after because I never thought I'd make it that far. And then when I did I was scared to ask for more.

When people ask me what I want to be when I grow up I throw out the flippant answer - taller. It distracts them, it throws them off. They forget that they might have been asking a real question. It works.

I don't know what I want to be. Or who I'm going to be. Right now I'm just me. And that's damn fine.

Why do I not blog? Because I'm on a journey, I don't have a map, I don't know where I'm going or where I want to go. I'm just trying to avoid the quicksand, marshes and mountains. Why should I blog? Because I'm on a journey, I don't have a map, I don't know where I'm going or where I want to go and I need to figure it out. But maybe someone else has a compass and can help me out.

Why do I blog? Because I'm on a journey. And I'm hoping you'll will be a friend and co-adventurer along the way (and maybe you have a compass or know a shortcut).