birthdayI’m two years old as a blogger today. It’s my Blogday. My Bloggiversary*. Whatever you want to call it. A Thursday in midwinter.

For me, one of the most tedious type of post is the navel gazing ‘blogging about blogging’ variety. But it is my party and I’ll be narcissistic and self-indulgent if I want to. Truth be told, I don’t even like the word – blog. Sounds lumpy and clumsy and trivial. While certainly trivial, I don’t think the genre necessarily deserves a moniker that sounds a bit like a bodily function. Still and all, better than a ‘tweet’, I suppose.

All this faff and circumstance is designed to mask the central point – I think I might be running out of steam.

I started a blog for the sole reason of keeping my family and friends updated with photos, videos and cute stories about Boy Z. A virtual remedy for the very real distance that I’d placed between us. It served that purpose well.

Somewhere along the way, however, I decided that blogging gave me other opportunities. It afforded me a means to practice my writing – a notebook for the modern aspiring author.  I wanted to branch out from my job as a lab rat into the amorphous field of scientific communication, so I started to use my blog as a sharpening stone to hone my craft. But rather than being good practice, my blog posts tend to be hastily constructed and unedited dumps.

I also discovered the therapeutic power of the media. On days where things were getting out of control,  getting too much for me, I could dump everything onto the internet and get it out of my system. Then people started to read my site and I started to get a bit nervous and uncomfortable about putting so much of myself out there.

1994And as more people started to read, I began to become addicted to having an audience. I started watching my stats obsessively and tallying up comments as a reflection of the quality of a post. I started to write for my audience, worked out the type of post that would get me the most positive feedback. In spite of being painfully shy in a small group or one-on-one setting, I love a crowd. I love to perform. That’s why enjoy my job – lecturing is little more than a weekly performance. Lately that is what blogging has become for me.

And I don’t know what I’m doing any more.

Maggie, who I love, described blogging as “the modern writer’s bourbon in the bottom drawer”. That thought has been stuck in my head for the last couple of weeks. I’m not sure what the line meant to her, but to me it’s that dark distraction that whispers constantly, quietly “Drink me.” An easy alternative to more productive tasks, more difficult jobs that, while initially soothing, can eat away a day’s work. A golden diversion that leads to nothing except more meaningless words in the ether.

I feel like I need to pull it together – need to focus on something real. Need to write, really write. I’ve had two years of practice. It might be time to get off the proverbial pot. I guess I just don’t know what the point of this is anymore. I’m certainly never going to make a living by running a personal blog. It isn’t improving my writing. I can’t use my blog as therapy anymore and I don’t even think I’m doing a very good job at the original stated purpose of this blog.

istock_000006882190xsmallSo what’s the point?

(I was going to end this post here. Click publish and move on. But then I came up with the answer to that rhetorical question).

One thing that I haven’t considered in this barrage of pointless introspection is the relationships that blogging has opened up for me. The connections. The friendships. I guess that’s what they are.

Some of you were friends in ‘real life’. I’ve met some of you after connecting via blogging and made fast friends. I’ve ‘known’ some of you for so long that I feel like we’ve met. Some of you inspire me with your words - moving me to laughter or tears, even in the same post. Some of us are sharing a journey around the world and some of us a journey round and around (and aroundour kids – the maddest among us are doing both. There are those of you with whom I share much more in common than most people know. Some of you have been kind enough to send me tones of home and some of you keep me up to date with new tunes.**

I’m still skeptical of internet relationships. Always will be. I’m not sure if the connections made through blogging are real friendships, but more and more they are starting to feel that way. So, I guess if there is a reason to keep going, these relationships – such as they are – would be it.

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*Where are my presents?

**There was no way I was going to get everyone in here. So, if I missed you out I apologize. It wasn’t intentional.

Josh Ottum’s debut album, “Like the Season” isn’t due until September. But if the debut single is any indication of what the Seattle based singer-songwriter is going to offer, then it will be worth the wait for the LP. Playful indie pop in the vein of Ben Kweller, Josh Ritter and Sufjan Stevens on his radio-frendlier days. Keep an eye out for his debut from Cheap Lullaby Records.

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Birthday 1

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