Being someone who has kept embarrassing diary after embarrassing diary, blogging seems a natural extension of habits I’ve always had. Personal accounts, journalling, reflecting – they are all stalwarts of the diary or journal and the blog. And yet, the two are very different. They have to be. Else why do both?
Let’s take the embarrassing factor to start with; someone reading my diary would be torturous. I’d be beetroot red and ashamed of the triviality that wastes good paper between the cute, decorative pages. A blog, however, is written to be read, surely. Else why share it online? Why invite people to read it?
This question troubles me – it’s why I am meta-blogging right now! Is it arrogant and self aggrandising of me to think that anyone would give two hoots about what I have to say? I mean there are some cool blogs out there. Informative, creative, entertaining blogs. It’s such a powerful tool. But what about me, with my ramblings, my musings and my not-sure-what-I-mean-but-listen anyways? Perhaps I should just keep a diary…
But, my diary, that is the raw, unimportant, complaining, blah-de-blah scribbled before bed as a reminder of the day and an emptying of the trash onto the page. My diary is the doodle on the back of an envelope. My write this down before I forget.
A blog, or rather my blog, is the pruning, the reflecting, the honing of ideas. It’s the deleting every other word until it feels right. It’s knowing that someone might read or someone might judge. It’s audience. Having one is a bonus; knowing you might is motivation and focus.
When a diary is unregulated emotion, often silly, nonsensical and dull, blogging is control, often silly, with some sense and a desire not to be dull.
Writing is writing, sure. But making time to find something you’re not ashamed to let someone else read, that’s different. That’s special. So, Dear Diary, I thank you for taking all the hits; Dear Blog, I thank you for giving me an out for some creativity and a chance to share with anyone who might care.