*brought on by GingerBeard being mean to me just because he was bored in work.
"Write something good" the email said. Well if that's not a damning criticism of my recent efforts, I don't know what is. I never sit down with a topic in mind; my ramblings here are a result of whatever happens to be kicking around in my brain at the time of writing. Sometimes it works out for me, sometimes it doesn't and I end up splurging sentimental and grammatically abused waffle all over the internet for the world and its mother (though not my mother) to read. Like now.
I'm both immensely proud of my blog and constantly embarrassed by it. People who don't keep a blog themselves think it's weird, laying my life's edited highlights out like I do for strangers and the occasional friend to read. They are probably right. SWF, the Jock and I were catching up last night and in the course of filling them in on all my gossip (more anon) I fired up teh internets to physically show the blog to the Jock, who appears to be a closet technophobe despite her remarkable education and her great job in the meedja. "Oh!" she exclaimed "it's like a whole other world!". She has a point.
Patroclus writes about her experience of blogging with a fluent articulacy that is beyond me, I thank her for her foresight in writing it all down so that I wouldn't have to. I blog because... what she said.
A part of me wants everyone to read it (yes, even my mam if I could be sure that it wouldn't offend her and that she'd still love me in spite of my indiscretions) because although I insist that I'm a wallflower (and I can be) I am a whore for attention if I think that I've done something well. But I only want everyone to read it and like it. So GingerBeard's criticism stung (bear in mind that I am sick, I have a hangover and I have got the painters in, so I may be taking things a little more to heart than I should). Panic set in; what if my blog is... mediocre at best?
Then three very nice blog related things happened to me this week and restored my faith in the medium and in my efforts here. So I shall prattle on.
"Write something good" the email said. Well if that's not a damning criticism of my recent efforts, I don't know what is. I never sit down with a topic in mind; my ramblings here are a result of whatever happens to be kicking around in my brain at the time of writing. Sometimes it works out for me, sometimes it doesn't and I end up splurging sentimental and grammatically abused waffle all over the internet for the world and its mother (though not my mother) to read. Like now.
I'm both immensely proud of my blog and constantly embarrassed by it. People who don't keep a blog themselves think it's weird, laying my life's edited highlights out like I do for strangers and the occasional friend to read. They are probably right. SWF, the Jock and I were catching up last night and in the course of filling them in on all my gossip (more anon) I fired up teh internets to physically show the blog to the Jock, who appears to be a closet technophobe despite her remarkable education and her great job in the meedja. "Oh!" she exclaimed "it's like a whole other world!". She has a point.
Patroclus writes about her experience of blogging with a fluent articulacy that is beyond me, I thank her for her foresight in writing it all down so that I wouldn't have to. I blog because... what she said.
A part of me wants everyone to read it (yes, even my mam if I could be sure that it wouldn't offend her and that she'd still love me in spite of my indiscretions) because although I insist that I'm a wallflower (and I can be) I am a whore for attention if I think that I've done something well. But I only want everyone to read it and like it. So GingerBeard's criticism stung (bear in mind that I am sick, I have a hangover and I have got the painters in, so I may be taking things a little more to heart than I should). Panic set in; what if my blog is... mediocre at best?
Then three very nice blog related things happened to me this week and restored my faith in the medium and in my efforts here. So I shall prattle on.
