Why blog at all?

I feel like I finally understand blogging; this is major, because although it seems straightforward simple, it's actually intricate and evolving. Journalism has been a mainstay of the civilized world for how long? Then somebody, maybe Al Gore, invented weblogs, and news media shows a new chink in its armor. Within a few years, it's adapt or perish; as publishing empires crumble, news organizations scramble to join the blog room blitz. Blog room blitz!

And the man in the back said everyone... kidding.

What I've come to realize (finally) is that everyone blogs differently, and the rules of the game are loose-fitting and malleable. "What's the point of a personal blog, my personal blog?" I seriously asked myself that, and concluded that "what's the point of" could be asked of just about everything we do, and there isn't always a great answer. Sometimes, even "what's the point of breathing," is convoluted.

I know that reading Andrew Keen's poignant but somewhat unimpressive and lackluster book The Cult of the Amateur had had an influence on me akin to that of the movie Super Size Me. I gave up blogging, just as the film had caused me to give up junk food. Why? Because, at that time, it seemed disgusting.

I was wondering what changed... what brought me back?

Anyone else noticing the strange weather? Recently, well... perhaps as far back as across the past few years, it seems like the weather's gone topsy-turvy on us. Like now; it's summer, yet most mornings — when the sun starts to break over the horizon and blinding light should pour through my useless blinds covering the south-facing windows, when instead, I'm greeted by the soft luminescence of lovely overcast skies — I feel a sensation that makes me think aloud, "Today will be a great day, finally," because it seems like it'll be dark all day.

Abruptly, at some point, the clouds lift — or fizzle, or dissolve or whatever — the sun lay its fireball beat-down, and I'm struck by the nasty, blinding realization of my wishful thinking. "It won't be that great; the damned sun is going to kill me."

Fortunately, that heated feeling fades as the sun sets — clouds begin to again blanket the sky — and for a moment, I could forget what season it's supposed to be. Overall, it feels like we're having cold summers and warm winters; that's wrong, on this side of the equator... right?

Perhaps this has had an influence; instilling in me new passions and desires, ambitions and motivations. Maybe it's all this worry over the economy; inflation, higher taxes, the weakening dollar: the state of our Union (and its credit rating), or the rest of the world — 2012 and the supposed possibility of a civilization-melting coronal mass ejection (that sounds kind of dirty). Maybe it's because of the IBC Cream Soda that I drank last week; I savored one for the first time in years, and oh-my-oh-my, it was fantastic!

I love the cold summer, but I also want my cold winter. What's the point of having cake if you can't eat it, too? There it is again, "what's the point of!" And blogging?!

I want to write, not blog, I'd think, until it reverberates for long enough that I stir, get annoyed and stop for awhile. "What the blog?!" comes next, in an introverted, furious firestorm of synaptic proportions.

"What the blog?!?" Am I insane? Short answer... dunno. Long answer? You're reading it, right now. Each entry, I've been answering that puzzlement.

I'm just doing... writing, blogging, sometimes ranting (because I'm either too old or too young for more tact, I can't remember). Now it doesn't matter much why, because byproduct of this process is profound — a collection of writing that I'm actually starting to like.

I'm starting to really like my own writing. I'm enjoying this, this... non-work work. I needed to write that. I'm staring at this text; "I did this... just now. Just because," and it feels amazing.

Blogging doesn't need to be about news, flaming, or whatever was for dinner. Blogging doesn't need to contain perfectly-proper writing. My blogging consists of written American English, occasional gibberish, images or artwork, and now? It's experimentation, growth, everything and nothing in particular, in no particular order, except maybe chronological, pedagogical, illogical, unnatural, and preferential... to state a few.

Change; the inevitable. In us, all around us.

My no-longer-superfluous blogging is starting to become exactly as it should be — should've been; my bradtastical journal and a shared, unspoken conversation. To mix things up. Like weather.

Comments

[Glifik]

Hey mate,
Just wanted to swing by and say I love your blog.. It's really interesting to read, especially this post right here.. Though I have to say I don't miss the cold winter ;)

[Bradtastic]

Hey, thanks man. I have a slightly more personal blog about disability and other things, too. http://www.bradchin.com

BTW, you actually have cold winters... Of course you don't miss them. Well, that, and your "cold" is a LOT colder.

[Glifik]

Cool, I'll look into it tomorrow (on my way to bed, as it's 2:10am here xD lol)

And true, we do have cold winters here.. And even though it's supposed to be summer here, we have just as much rain, if not more.. Kinda putting a damper on the summer, lol..