I have a confession to make. Here goes.
I don’t really read all that many blogs.
I feel guilty about it. I really do. There is this impression out there that if you HAVE a blog then you READ blogs. Which is really dumb. Just because I HAVE a car doesn’t mean I can rebuild a tranny. Those trannys are not as easy as they might look – let me tell you. I talked to one in a nightclub one time and she was not nearly as approachable as she seemed.
I’m not sure what all this means. I’m a blogger by way of having a blog. But I don’t really like blogs. I like people – Wendy, Steakbellie, Ann – so I sometimes stop by to read what they have to say. I read Dooce regularly because she makes me laugh. I jump over to read what pissed off housewife has to say once a week or so. I found her though a crooked lymphoma society path when she was in the heart-wrenching process of saying goodbye to a friend with AIDS and Hodgkin’s. Her words were thrillingly raw and real and so I stop by every now and again to see what she says and hope that one day when I’m on my deathbed, someone will react with that same amount of passion and practical love. I catch up with Sam and Dan and Andy when I see they’ve posted something new – or 10 or 12 something news but that’s about it. What’s worse? I don’t comment. Hardly at all. Occasionally if something really REALLY touches me, I’ll toss out a comment. This is how I met Broccoli. And I’m certainly glad I did. Broccoli is walking in the concrete shoes of ABVD right now. It’s a hell of a walk and he’s doing it with honor. Go Broccoli.
There are others, I guess. Others I check in with but I’m not a regular anywhere. Every now and again I’ll find someone new and, like with any new relationship, I’ll obsess for a few days – the same way when I find a new song I like and I play it over and over and over and over again. And then one more time. I’ll read a new-found blog obsessively for a few days – but then I’ll lose interest. I’ll stop by a couple more times and then pretty soon …
I’m onto the next one. What can I say? Don’t hate the player, hate the game. I have no idea what that means.
Why the bouncing around? Why can’t I commit? Dunno. Maybe it’s my short attention span. Maybe I’m just a tough audience. Maybe I’m not really interested in all that much or maybe it’s that there really isn’t that much good writing out there. I recently started visiting Dan Goleman’s blog. He’s the author of a book I reference a lot when I teach groups about Emotional Intelligence. I really love EI – love the concept, love the application, love the neuroscience behind it – so I figured I’d really love his blog. Boy did get that one wrong. One time my dog swallowed a mushy piece of cantaloupe thinking it was a doggie treat. She quickly pa-tooeyed it out onto the floor and looked at me like I was crazy. I know how she felt. I had that same look on my face the first time I read one of Dan’s posts. Disappointed. A bit confused. I’m sure some people like it. It’s just not what I was expecting. That’s all I’m saying.
I guess that’s the beauty of the blog world. There is any style, any topic, just about any anything out there being blogged about. Don’t like my style of writing? Think I’m too personal? Check out Jeff or Mike. Don’t like Jeff or Mike? Too businessy? Check out Steakbellie. Don’t like Steakbellie? Really??? EVERYBODY likes Steakbellie!
Last week a journalism student at Ohio University – Go Bobcats! – interviewed me for an article she’s writing about cancer patients who blog. She asked a lot of great questions. She asked me when I started my blog, if I felt like my blog had changed, if I blogged differently during my cancer, if I felt my blog helped me, if it’s helped any other cancer patients and many more questions. They were good questions, well thought out. Most of them I was able to answer right away. A few I waited a good 2 or 3 ums prior to answering – one, however, caused me great pause.
Is there anything, she asked, that you wouldn’t blog about?
Is there anything I wouldn’t blog about.
I’m not sure how I answered. I think I said no. I think I said, No, in fact there probably isn’t much I haven’t blogged about already. I’ve posted about my business, my family, my husband, my ovulation, my chemo-induced menopause, my miscarriages, my hair loss – with pictures, my fears, my surgeries, my step-daughter, my step-daughter’s mom and step-dad, and how I feel about every one of the previous listed items. I’ve posted when I’m happy, sad, weary, confused, irritated, delighted, grateful, hurt, frustrated, thrilled, speechless and more. I’ve posted from my home, my office, my car, a chemo room, a hospital room, and at least 11 states of the union. I’ve never posted from Canada, however, and never intend to. But I really can’t think of a topic I haven’t or wouldn’t post about.
I guess, for me, it all goes back to openness and vulnerability – both of which I value highly. I post about anything because just about anything can be going on inside me at any given moment. I’m pretty open with all of that. Pretty right out there with it. Because it feels right to me. Maybe I post about every topic under the sun because I have an unhealthy need to be known. Maybe I just want to expose myself. Maybe I’m one trench coat away from an arrest. A posting pervert – a bloghibitionist. Or maybe it’s because that’s the kind of writing I really like – the raw kind, the real kind. I’d like to say I write whatever I feel whenever I feel it because long ago I learned not to care what anyone else thought about me but that’s not really true. I do care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t open the comments, now would I?