I also felt pretty narcissistic about the whole enterprise. What did I possibly have to contribute that someone else wasn't already contributing? Why would anyone care about my little bits of introspection and some pictures of the things we did over the weekend?
I almost never acknowledge the existence of this blog in the real world. I get embarrassed when I run into someone, and they mention reading it. It feels silly and trivial. I never quite know what to say. When I had a Facebook account, I only posted a link to this blog once, and I remember going into work the next day very anxious that someone would mention it. No one did.
However, silly and self-involved the whole thing might be, it's something I enjoy. I like trying to prepare my thoughts as I drive home from work in the afternoons. I like having an excuse to sit down and hammer out a few sentences in the evenings while the kids play
Blogging is different from keeping a journal. I know that the goal of my writing is to share it, even if that network is quite humble. But knowing that someone else will see the words makes me try just a little harder to craft them. I mull over some of the ideas, leave them be for
And blogging almost turns your whole life into a hobby. You get to look at your everyday moments through a different lens. While this might seem inauthentic or staged, it is also meditative and reflective. It has filled me with appreciation and gratitude. I know that especially when I first started this blog, I felt like I had to make sure that I actually did some things to write about. And making myself do things is a really good practice. In the months after Arlo was born, which happen to be the first months of this blog, I felt so completely and totally content with life.
When I look back through the archives, I cringe at certain turns of phrases, words that sound like they came out of someone else's mouth. I don't love all the pictures. I wonder why I bothered sharing some thoughts at all. But I also am glad that those words and pictures and thoughts are there for me to revisit, and I am even more grateful for the pleasure they brought me while I worked on them.