However small my presence in the blogging world appears, I actually am slightly obsessed with blogs, more particularly with bloggers themselves. The authors of the blogs I read basically fall into two categories, which I have made up for the convenience of this post. One group is people who write newsletters. Post pictures of family events. Birthdays, holidays, baby's firsts, rainy day fun... The other group of bloggers write about their thoughts. They put it all out there: the good, the bad, the shocking, the controversial, the judgemental, the happy, the conceited, the miserable.... anything goes.
I love both types of blogs. I love living vicariously through people's everyday adventures. Newsletter-type bloggers seem to find the joy and beauty in everyday events that others would find monotonous or dull. Emotional bloggers lay it all out on the line. I feel like they are letting me sneak a peak at their personal diary. And I'm hooked.
I think these people have something I don't. They see the joy in everyday things. They are brave and sincere and open and honest. They let the whole world in on their secrets. Just a few taps and clicks on the keyboard and a click of the almighty publish button and just like that...pop... it's up for the whole world. I wonder sometimes, aren't they afraid? Aren't they scared to let people see?
Bloggers who gush about their perfect house and their perfect husbands and their perfect kids.
Bloggers who confess random, sometimes embarrassing facts.
Bloggers who write about their amazing vacations AND their trips to the ER and AND their daily, uneventful walks to the park.
Bloggers who talk about the changes they wish. For themselves. And in themselves.
Bloggers who can't construct a sentence or spell check to save their lives. (I realize I often fall into this category myself.)
I envy these people. Because they won't think twice about pushing publish. Because they don't edit and delete and clip out parts until their post doesn't exist.
Because 99.999% of my posts get clipped and edited and filtered and saved as a draft (mental or physical) until they become nothing more than, "Today was a good day." "Today was..." "Today."
Because today I won't post this. Because tomorrow I'll remember why I'm not brave like them. Why I envy them. Why I have blogging obsession-itis.
But meanwhile, I'll keep reading. And respecting. And envying.
And saving as drafts.