It was balmy on that late March evening in 2007.
A friend had called to ask how my most recent bout with unemployment was faring. I groused and whined and bemoaned my situation and wondered who I’d pissed off in a previous life to have been dealt such a horrific hand. She suggested I start a blog.
A blog, she repeated.
What in the hell is a blog?
An on-line journal of sorts. Others can read it. Come on, it’ll be a great way to channel your creativity and keep your name out there.
In the blogosphere.
The blogosphere??? What the hells is that? It sounds like it could be the surname of an ex-Illinois governor impeached for abuse of power.
I tried it and within days, I got hooked. I don’t know why blogging can be so addictive. I think I got into blogging for the same reasons I got into broadcasting, but not everything I write is a masterpiece. I have plenty of people who think I’m an idiot; an asshole and a rank amateur as a writer.
That bothered me ast one time, but I stopped allowing it to be a drain. It’s way too much work to think yourself that special or to think the loudmouth stranger who deigned to tell me such a thing, had an opinion that was worth a damn.
Perhaps, but I’d like to think that I’ve evolved quite a bit since March 31, 2007. Three years later, I’m wiser, less vulnerable and far less concerned with all the things that initially got me into blogging. I no longer care about hits and views. It’s no longer about being named Blogging Queen or being incredibly popular. I DON’T care to meet other bloggers, as some do and I try never to refer to myself one.
I’m a writer, dammit Spock. Ive tried very hard not to get sucked into that blogging culture where everyone calls everyone else by their blogging name, which for some reason, really bothers me.
I love writing, but there’s actually a lot about the art of blogging itself that kind of galls me. As a result, I’ve thought about calling it quits when my blog reaches a million hits. I decided that when I turned 50. Well, that was a year ago. A hell of a lot has happened since then. I’ve not shared most of it. That means it was sensitive subject matter for me. It’s been the kind of things I had to work out privately; in my head as opposed to here, in a very public setting for all of mankind to read, assuming, of course, that all of mankind reads my blog.
Which it doesn’t.
So, there you have it: my blog is three years old.
I don’t know what the future holds. I’m not particularly happy in my new job. I’ve been rather closed mouth about things. It’s not that the job is all that bad, it’s just that I can’t function in the general population. I’m recidivist– only truly happy and content and feel safe in prison. And by prison, I mean broadcasting.
I’ve fought the admission that I miss the industry. I suppose admitting it means I’ve not evolved. Everyone tells me there’s life after TV and radio. Then, why do I miss it? I’ve tried to convince myself and anyone that would listen that I wanted out; that I was eager to live life without a mike in my face or a Program Director on my ass. The reality is that I know nothing else.
Therefore, I”m in a state of flux, which I think is somewhere near Nebraska. I don’t know what the future holds. Will this blog live to see age four??? Who knows and really, who cares. Life will go on if I pull the plug or if you decide to never return.
But I suppose in some ways, if I’m the entertainer I’d like to believe I am, if you make the effort to make my writing regular aappointment reading, fine. Even though I don’t make a dime on it, I must–as that miscreant Dr. Phil would say–get something out of it. Theres’ reward in there somewhere. I’m just not recognizing it outright…
Or maybe I am and just too embarrassed to admit that I’m that emotionally needy.
Well, be that as it may. The real issue du jour is my blog and for the third year in a row, I thank you, my readers; regular or irregular, incontinent or not. You have given me a reason for writing. I’ve given myself permission to write, too.
Sp, thanks for finding me funny or so journalistically intriguing or so utterly ridiculous that you keep coming back for more.
I will, to the best of my ability, keep you coming back for whatever reason that compels you to do so.
Happy birthday, Blog.
I pray that at the ripe old age of three, you’ll get to work for once and start making your old lady some money..