I started blogging in 2007. I started doing it as a way to journal. But obviously as a narcissistic way to journal since I was doing it online where anyone could read it. And then over time I got involved with the community. It’s hard to explain what the blogging community is to those who don’t do it. How you really can give a shit about someone’s kid getting his arm broken when you’ve never met them. How someone’s mother can make you laugh even though you’ll really never meet her.
But it starts slow. You visit a few sites, you start to read them, you leave some comments. Then people come to visit you. And it’s like crack. You get that first comment and there is a sense of validation. Ok, maybe it’s not like crack. Maybe it’s like someone noticing something you’ve been working on and saying, “hey, nice job.” Maybe it’s more like that.
So slowly over time you build up these connections. And it’s not easy. When you’re brand new you have no street cred. You’re just another nameless/faceless. It takes a lot of tapping somenone on the shoulder and saying hello for them to notice you standing there. But it happens. Eventually. And then you have your web. Your little online community.
You can see your little dot on the map with imaginary strings stretched out all over the world of people you’ve met. People you’re connected to. People you spend a lot of time talking to.You have to cultivate and work on this thing constantly. You have to feed it and water it and just generally take a lot of time and care. But you like it so it doesn’t feel like work. Because like I said, you are genuinely interested in these people. Because they have become friends.
But then you get busy. Your job or kids or parents or just life bear down on you and demand your attention. You can’t spend that time going and visiting and feeding and cultivating online. And you can hear the strings break. Ping. Ping. Ping. And you know that it would be easy to fix the string. Just go visit. Say hello. Leave a comment. But it’s daunting. There is too much to do. Ping. Ping. Ping. Then you don’t even want to write on your own blog because it’s not fair. You don’t want people to have to come visit you all the time when you can’t reciprocate. Ping. So you slow down. You stop.
You have stopped doing this thing because you just don’t have time to do it properly.
Pingpingpingpingpingpingpingpingpingpingpingpingping
And that’s where I am. I don’t have time to do it properly.
So I’m going to do it differently. I’m bugging out. I’m closing the wagons. This thing started as a way for me to journal – albeit a stupidly open journal – but still a journal. I think I have to get back to that. At least for a while. I hesitate because it was not easy to meet all of those people. To become friends. To get interested in their lives in a way that makes me really want to go and read and see and comment. But I know I just can’t do it right now. So I won’t.
I’ll keep doing this, writing here, updating. When I can. But I’m closing comments. Those comments are the gateway drug and I have to just stop cold turkey. So I’ll be here in my little spot, on my dot, with no ties to the map. Hopefully someday soon I can come back out. Reconnect the lines. Because I really do care about your wedding and your son’s allergy and your memoir. I’ll check on you from time to time.
Best of luck! See you around sometime.
