Why I Stopped Writing Blog Posts (For the Most Part)

Why I Stopped Writing Blog Posts (For the Most Part)

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Chicken or upside-down heart? You decide.

Chicken or upside-down heart? You decide.

  1. Other people are funnier, smarter, and/or more relevant than me.

    Have you read Eden M. Kennedy? We’ve spent years on the same internet writing blogs and have even met face to face in person more than once back when we went to conferences and I wasn’t afraid to go to the United States, so I feel that I can safely say out loud that I think she’s super cool without turning 80 levels of fuchsia and wanting to dive behind the next piece of furniture.

    For that matter, have you read Rebecca Woolf? Or Janelle Hanchett? Or Todd Walton? Or Shay Stewart-Bouley? Or Jenny Lawson? Or Mimi Smartypants? Or Erica Violet Lee? Or Sean H. Doyle? Or Samantha Irby? Or Brenda Keesal? Or Zoe S. Todd? Or Kate Bowles? Or Amanda Magee? Or Billy-Ray Belcourt?

    I’m still mentally diving behind a ficus in a hotel lobby in my mind, and I’ve literally touched half these people with my hands (in a totally non-creepy way, I swear).

  2. Someone might find out about me.

    Really, me? Really? I have been writing here since late August 2003. I’ve been advised that maybe I should cull my archives if not destroy them altogether as a professional internetter, but I haven’t, so there is 15-and-a-half years of dirt on me just hanging out in the ether waiting for a trowel. I think I can write things here without being too revelatory after all of that.

  3. What if I say something that people think is dumb?

    Yes, that’s going to happen. I’ve been saying things on the internet since the mid-1990s — that’s way back in THE LAST CENTURY, for god’s sake — and I fully acknowledge that it’s impossible for me not to have said some dumb stuff online. I still lie awake at night thinking about some of the dumb crap I’ve said so I can burn in my bed from all the shame. It’s so great.

  4. Do I have anything to say anymore?

    YES. Aidan can assure you that I have something to say about everything put in front of me. It’s a weakness. I lay my eyes on something, and BAM I’m thinking about it and what it means and what its consequences are and if it were a font would I like that font and can I use this to make something and is this idea something that extends love or can we put it down compassionately like a broken thing that hurts? So, YES, I HAVE THINGS TO SAY ALL THE TIME.

  5. So, if I have things to say, are they important enough to put out into the world?

    Look, this is a question I need to stop asking myself. I ask this of most things in my life: is this thing important enough or necessary enough to exist. This question gives a person a great excuse to do nothing, because most things can be explained away as unnecessary or of too little importance. I mean, am I even necessary? Of course not. Had I not been brought into existence, the world would have gone along just fine without mourning the nonexistence of a person who never even achieved the station of zygote. Few things are necessary, depending on what relies on them. This blog is entirely unnecessary to your life. Enjoy!

I’ve decided that I’m not allowed to judge whether this blog matters. That feels like a pretty risky thing to do. It’s like I’m just begging for shit to get stupid over here. Also, I want to write publishable poems, and most of the authors I follow around online have stripped their blogs from their websites. Should I have a blog as a serious person? Am I a serious person? Will I grow old alone without ever having published a single poem in a reputable publication because I did not appear to be a serious person? What planted this “serious person” idea in my head?

Literally, just now, Aidan popped by, and I shielded his eyes from my laptop because my post isn’t ready yet, and he said “Oh, it’s so dumb. I can see it through your dumb fingers, and your dumb post is so dumb hahahahaha.” What a jerk.

literally just now

literally just now

Oh, look, I’m arguing against blogging again, but I love it, and it’s a thing I think about a lot, so I’m going to do it anyway. I just am. I’m going to do it even with all the funnier/smarter/more relevant people than me out there, even if it means someone finds out about me (whatever that honestly means), even if I say dumb things, and even if I question why any of this should happen at all because my brain wants to pare the world down to safely necessary objects akin to the irrefutability of Plato’s ideal forms.

So, this is today’s blog post. I feel like I should apologize for it, but then posting it becomes some weird act of aggression, so I’M NOT SORRY.

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