I need blogging more than blogging needs me.
There’s a great non-profit called Mocha Club, and awhile ago they ran a campaign around the slogan “I need Africa more than Africa needs me.” The intention was to point to the fact that the lessons a person receives from Africa are greater than the impact that one person will likely have on Africa itself.
I think I need to adopt a similar mantra for blogging.
It’s well-documented (or well-undocumented) that I haven’t had much to say in recent months. (Slash… year.) It’s for a variety of reasons. Mostly, it’s due to feeling like I can’t articulate the things that are happening in life right now. And that’s kind of my M.O. … I write about the things that are happening in life. So being unable to talk about the big things leaves me feeling like I can’t talk about the little things, and then I end up not talking about anything at all. It’s like writer’s block: marathon edition.
But as I was flipping through old blogs searching for links for the 28 List, I realized how much I miss blogging. Like, blogging: writing about everyday life for the sake of writing about everyday life. Not writing about the significant and spiritually meaningful aspects of life – which are important, if not accessible, to me at this point in time – but writing about things like Martha Stewart’s choice of Dove-inscribed sentiments and models who look like they just jumped out of a car wash. Or the opening line to beat all opening lines uttered by my hosts on the San Juan Island leg of the roadtrip. Without blogging about the random stuff of life, I would be less likely to remember things that I probably would have sooner forgotten, like the unfortunate over-sharing hour I spent with a new hairdresser who I actively avoided in the future (more for her benefit than my own) or that one time I thought the best solution to mopping the floor was taking off my pants.
I’ve gotten a lot of things wrong with blogging. I’ve moved around too many times, and changed names/designs/directions even more. I treated blogging like a food journal at some points along the way and like an advertisement at others. I’ve posted too often and not often enough. But I think the biggest thing I’ve gotten wrong was the semi-recent assumption that I had an obligation to offer something significant to the blogging world, and if I was going to post, then it had better be a keeper of groundbreaking proportions.
But let’s be real. I’m the girl who writes about things I don’t understand about Price Chopper. I write angry posts about high heels. My greatest contribution to the blogging world might be a two-part series on a brief bat epidemic in my old apartment. (If you are unfamiliar with that series, feel free to read this and this over coffee sometime. And then go home and duct tape your windows shut.) Aside from the occasional serious sentiment, I have little of lasting value to offer to the blogging world.
And that’s kind of liberating. Because I really think that I need blogging more than blogging needs me. I need to fill this space with everyday things, not because it’s going to make a poignant impact on the blogging world, but because it keeps me sane.
Or at the very least, keeps me laughing.