noncommittal blogging

I was thinking of how to start this post, and a line from Forest Gump came to mind. You know, when Forest suddenly stops in the middle of the road after he’s been running for like a year (or was it a few months?) and says, “I think I’ll go home now. I’m pretty tired.”

I’m not entirely sure that relates to my noncommittal blogging habits, but it makes sense in my head. 🙂

I blog for a while, and decide it is a worthy pursuit for the sake of documenting life, what I’m learning, how God is moving me, what my kids are teaching me, and just the general journey I’m on. I used to keep a journal (or 10), but each one was only 1/3 full and I would follow the same pattern I do with blogging. Decide it’s important and feel inspired, write a bunch for a few months. Followed up by reading back over the ridiculous things I wrote and feeling embarrassed at my {immaturity, vulnerability, or even the language I used to try to sound writer-ish} which leads to me thinking

“why does everyone in the world think they need to blog? It’s like they think they are so stinkin’ important and have all this knowledge that the rest of us have never considered. And they love to embellish their language to make the simplest things sounds like some earth-shattering, profound wisdom. (Don’t get my wrong, God is really good at teaching profound truth through simple things, but I think people can get over-zealous trying to create analogies that do the same). And they post all these pictures taken with their fancy cameras (b/c all bloggers also think they must own cameras that cost more than my van) to show the world how great of a mother/artist/homeschooler/wife/baker/work-at-home mom they are.”

Mostly I think I’m just not artistically wired and most bloggers are, so it’s just an automatic difference in the way I perceive and process things. I like art, I like beauty a lot, and I’m so thankful God has graced us with so much of it. But I am much better at conversing and philosophizing about life, politics, education, and the like than I am at creating anything. My words don’t sound pretty – although I think I was a better writer when I was still in school and had to do it for the grade – ha.

But then I feel bad for thinking that because I know in real life they are probably lovely people (though some of them are probably not, because, well, those people exist). And after all, I get to choose what I read. And the last thing I want to do is be like those commenters who go around blogs whining about everything and criticizing everyone. I cringe at the ugliness of my own cynicism and know that, just like in junior high, I usually only put down others who make me feel inadequate and that my problem is not with them, it’s me.

But I really get turned off by all the inner melodrama of the ‘woe is me, i’m so inadequate’ nonsense, so then I get mad at myself for my pity-party. Seriously. Get a grip, Britney. (That is one of the lines I will read in a few months and roll my eyes at.) So now you have a glimpse into my crazy head.

And I’m mostly writing this all for my own daughters to (one day) get a glimpse into the inner workings of their complicated mother. 😛 And if, by chance, some person who happens to relate to my thoughts comes along and reads my blog, then maybe I’ll make a new friend or two as well.