Lately it’s been hard to write, hard to piece together something coherent. It’s not like my life is any more tragic than anyone else’s, or necessarily any better. It’s not that work is hard, though it is frequently. And it’s not like there aren’t plenty of current events in the news to bemoan and decry.
I think I’ve been inundated in a severe lack of blogesteem.
So many bloggers out there are Real Writers, each post a careful paean to their literary genius. They usually make it look so effortless. Each day a fresh insight- a fresh look at some mundane topic that I have thought (to myself), “I should write something about that.” And then, turning to my faithful Bloglines- oops!- someone beat me to it, and beat me good and well, to boot.
Many others have the connection thing going on- they link to some major blog engine, and get huge amounts of traffic through there. As if having a widget was a badge of honor, and (frequently though not always) they are. Or, they have the “best post of the week”, or the “darn good blogger” shoutout. They make connections by sticking widgets on each other. When I am in the depths of blog envy I bemoan my un-flaired blog.
And then I sit back, and breathe, and try and remember why I began blogging in the first place. It wasn’t for widgets or a huge blogroll or to run countless giveaways (though I love me a giveaway!!). It wasn’t to become a Real Writer, either, though I’m sure my college-student past would be shocked. It wasn’t to have a readership of thousands, and never to have time to respond to comments, and not to be able to read others’ blogs in a thoughtful, leisurely way.
So, dear reader (if you have made it thus far), thank you for reading. I’m reading you, too. Thanks for being part of my blog experience. You have made it richer, and more meaningful, and I am glad to have found you, glad you found me.
Even without widgets.