The thing about blogging is – I don’t know. I absolutely positively have no idea!
So, what do I blog about? What do I hope to achieve out of it? To satisfy my ‘readers’? Or do I write for myself?
If I wish only to write for myself, then a pen and paper is all I need. A blog would then make no sense.
If I wish to satisfy my readers, then what I really need is a bang on the head with a heavy hammer and a reality cheque, because, unfortunately, wordpress stats don’t lie.
This crisis is new to me. I’ve been in the ‘blogosphere’ for seven odd months. The first few months went by in a flurry. I made a lot of friends from all over the world, and read about a lot of people and their lives. I even wrote an article about what blogging meant to me. My head is a hotbed of weird, disconnected eclectic thoughts, and they all poured out, a steady stream of words that helped me keep my sanity. Things were looking rosey, rain drops kept falling on my head, and I was liking it. I met total strangers, and asked for photos of their babies, so I could write about it. Everywhere I looked, I found something new that I could blog about.
And then, IT happened. I summoned the courage to send one of my blog posts, one that I particularly liked, to a national newspaper, and they published my article. It was well-received, I got a lot of appreciative e-mails, my parents couldn’t stop gushing, one of my old school teachers even called to say she’d read the article and that she was proud. I blogged about getting published, congratulating myself. I was on the moon –for a few days, atleast…
Nothing changed in the real world. The earth still revolved around its’ own axis, completing its’ slightly skewed rotation in twenty four hours. Politicians continued to speak out of their collective arses. National newspapers continued to publish articles, and the people who sent me appreciative e-mails sent other people appreciative e-mails.
My inbox was once more a wasteland, strewn with special-one-time-offers, discounts on stuff that I’ll never buy and offers of marriage from daughters of African dictators, who, for some unfathomable reason, trusted only me, and who just wanted me to send them some money so they could get out of their country carrying their immense wealth with them.
And I was confused…
I wrote several articles, but didn’t bother putting them up in my blog. I was in search for that perfect article, one that I could send to a national newspaper, one that was truly worthy of my genius. Because, what’s the point of writing an article, if it won’t get published in a NATIONAL NEWSPAPER?
Without realizing it, I had started to think out of my arse. I now feel a strange empathy for politicians, and their assumed sense of self importance.
My wordpress dashboard was bloated with half-arsed, barely baked drafts. I would peek into my blog, and remove my head just a quickly. The wordpress stats felt like a rebuke. It was like one of those depressing movies about a once-famous, now-fading movie star, who spends her time watching old movies she starred in, crying, and feeling sorry for herself, until one day, she decides to commit suicide. My situation played out on a much smaller scale, of course, but it was pathetic, and I was close to committing ‘blogicide’ myself.
If you showed the fortitude to read my article up to this point, you will be disappointed to know that I still don’t have the answers to any of the questions I raised earlier. I still don’t know what precisely, this blog does for me. Or what it is ideally supposed to do. So, if you came here hoping for answers, hope on!
All that I know is that I feel happier blogging, than not blogging.
That should do for now.
In the words of a great robot,
“I’ll be back”
Actually, I am.
Back, I mean…
Not that it makes any difference.
But it does to me.
That should do for now.
You may leave your valuable comments below, but if you don’t, I understand. You are handicapped or maimed in a way that prevents you from using a key board. No other reason why you wouldn’t comment on such a perfectly written article, that comes from a great mind that once wrote an article that once got published in a national newspaper.