Why blog?

Someone has just asked me why I blog, what brought me to blogging and what did I hope to accomplish by blogging, questions that made me stop to think.

I'm hoping it's not all for vanity's sake.

I think I'm looking for friends, I'm looking for peers who think like me, and not think like me like, those with the same political views, same religious beliefs, people who are thankful for the resurgence of the colour kelly green, but those whose minds work like mine. Those who love words, who love to play with words, those who think in metaphors and while out walking their dogs spend the whole time running over sentences in their heads, playing with words, constantly thinking of new ways to say the same things, or new things, different things. Those that take sentences and enjoy playing with them, switching words around, trying to find how many different ways they can say the same thing, or how many of the same ways can they say different things. Everywhere I look, everything I see, hear, think, feel, transfers into stories, paragraphs, sentences that might only make sense to me, sentences you have to read slowly to understand. I suppose it has something to do with seeing the world through eyes of an artist, and I realize it’s incredibly bold of me to call myself an artist, but to be honest, I am. I am a writer. I think as a writer thinks. I feel as a writer feels. I lay down at night and have to consciously turn off the writer in my head. At times I fear my own insanity, I fear I’ve failed to get everything out, I fear I’ve got too much bottled up in there, stuff I’ve played over again and again but never with pen in hand and someone once told me it’s not gone, it sits in there, you think it and assume you’ve lost it, but no, it’s there, crowding space, I fear, waiting to explode. I wonder if my head could explode. I wonder if failing to write, failing to pick up that pen when I’m so comfy tucked in my blankets, cat curled in my sideways lap, will be the cause of my insanity. Is it normal to fear going insane?

So I suppose through blogging I hope to justify my thoughts, my feelings, my individuality, which makes no sense if I’m looking for others like myself, but it’s true. It makes sense. All the people I’m surrounded with here, in my real life, my 3D world, none of them are writers, none of them are artists, they get up in the morning, they brush their teeth, pour their coffee, head off on the road and go to work. They work their days and live their nights, back home, tv, partner, child, life, real life. They know me better than anyone but I figure they’ve given up trying to “get” me. I am unique in my group but desperate to find others like me, I don’t fear losing that uniqueness, that individuality because we all still remain different, I’d just love a conversation about something other than what’s immediately in front of us.

I blog to entertain myself, I blog to release some of the pressure inside my head, I blog because sometimes I feel I have some good stuff to say, I blog to not be alone but to still keep my aloneness intact, I blog to share.

Mainly I blog because of hope, hope that soon the flood gates will open and everything that’s wonderful, and stored inside, will come out.