Home stretch

May 24, 2005 is when I started this blog. As em, I was encouraged to do it by Torn, and I've been able to keep in touch more with friends through it.

A year of blogging. It's strange. Very few people read what I write, and even less comment on it. It's a public journal of sorts, but of course it's not exactly the same. I can say anything in my private journal; here, even though I like the idea of it being honest and truthful, I'm always considering my words. From whether or not I spelled a particular word correctly, to whether or not I'm going to hurt someone's feelings with what I say. I react to what others say on their blogs, knowing very well they will read mine, which is something unheard of in my own handwritten journal by my bed.

If a student wanted to find this blog, it would be possible. Not easy, but possible. I have to think about that too.

I've learned things I would have been happier not to know from this blogging life. The lack of emotion, inflection affects the way I read and how I've been read. I've thought about just leaving all this alone.

Sometimes it feels like a popularity contest; "has anyone read me today?" "How many comments did I get?" "God, I really put my heart and soul into that, and no one even noticed."

I failed at that contest the first time in junior high, and sometimes it feels like I'm back there again.

Teasing comments I could totally make in person come off as spiteful when left in writing. I've had my comments deleted when someone didn't like what I said, or how it made him look to his other readers.

I've had to learn a whole new idea of tact. I still haven't got it right sometimes.

Maybe that's why I'm not winning at this popularity thing, this second go round. I don't write every day, I don't comment on other blogs every day, and I sometimes forget that every one has a different reason for their blog.

Most of my friends never read my blog, even though I've told them about it. I like being the center of attention, but people have other things to do than learn that I've lost a pound or have cramps.

So, what's my point?

I don't have one. I talk a lot, and most of it is banal. Not always mind you, I mean, remember the monkeys and the typewriter analogy. You know, given enough time, something worthwhile's gotta come out of me.

And so it is with this blog. Most of what I write is unimportant. Every once in a while it's not.

Here's to another year.