I know what you're thinking.
I have no business claiming to write a blog, when I rarely, in fact, write one.
I must say I was not prepared for the emotional onslaught that would follow the "12 Days of Mom" series. When I pushed publish on that final post, I closed my computer and walked away. I thought I might be done. I have toyed with the idea of just closing her down.
My life lies in stark contrast today to the life that existed when I started this blog. And I really had to take some time to think about whether it made sense for me to keep writing here. Why was I writing? When I started this blog, it was about keeping long distance grandparents up to date on their grandson. Due to all manner of things, that sort of stopped being the purpose.
I really don't want to fill up page after page about myself. Because, hello? Narcissus, anyone? So, why would I come here to write?
I backed the thought train up and asked myself why I like to read other people's blogs. Why do I love to read about mundane, everyday things in someone else's life. Because, I really do. I prefer it to TV or magazines. It's my way to relax. But why?
All of this was swirling around in my head when it was time to read The Great Gatsby for book club. I don't know if you've heard, but there's a film version coming out. I predict a lot of gin will be consumed this month.
I started reading the book and around the three-quarter mark said out loud for the first time ever, "I simply don't like this book." I know. I KNOW. You are shaking your head in despair and disappointment. Listen. It's not that I don't appreciate the art-the amazing writing-because I get it. What I don't like is the story.
And there it was. Finally, my mind strung together a long line of random thoughts I had been having and my soul said, "I love stories". I can appreciate the beauty of amazing words put together in extraordinary ways. But what really gets my blood pumping, what I'm passionate about, is a person's story. (Perhaps we will discuss at another time why I don't like the story in Gatsby...but do I really need to explain it???)
What I love about people is that each of them carries with them a different story. And I want to know it. Every single detail of their story, no matter what kind of details are held within. This is how I connect with other humans. And this is why I hate small talk, and cocktail parties. Because when people are talking about the surface details of their life, I really want to say, "Tell me about yourself as a kid". I will go ahead and mention that I rarely do this. Maybe I should. I think I've also mentioned that I'm somewhat of a social nightmare. So, I think diving deep at a cocktail party is rather unwise. For me, anyway!
All of this mental workout led me back to my blog. And why I blog. Because it is my story. Granted, it is not all of my story. It never really can be, because it is rare that our own stories aren't somehow intertwined with someone else's stories. There is nothing worse than having someone else tell your story.
So, I've decided to keep coming here and writing down some of my stories. Maybe you are like me-maybe the story is what connects us. Maybe reading about my mundane life is how you will relax. Maybe something I face, or something I am wrestling with connects with you. It is the very worst feeling to believe you are facing something alone. Sharing my story might help you know that you are so not alone.
I don't know that it matters to anyone but me that I'm going to continue to blog. But it was an important conclusion for me to reach. To understand what it is I love about reading and, to follow, what I love about writing.
So, here's to some stories! You know I can't go a week without making a total fool of myself. Maybe at the very least you can get a good laugh!