My completely intuitive, unresearched understanding of blogging is that it started out as an online diary space for most people. Sharing your thoughts with people you know, who shared your thoughts with people they know turned into sharing your thoughts with anybody who would read them. I know I started that way as a blogger.
Then somebody started writing well. Advertising, getting paid, and fifteen minutes (or more) of fame sort of all attacked some of those people who write well and there emerged a pressure to write with direction, style, themes. And suddenly we’re at the current blogosphere (a term that I do not like the sound of).
On my cynical days I think of bloggers and blogging as millions of people who are awkwardly talking a little too loudly on the phone in public and we’re all eavesdropping.
On my brighter days I am so enormously thankful that there are spaces and places that, even though they are virtual, provide a genuine escape from the world when it is clumsy, painful, embarrassing, too beautiful to bear, cruel, isolating. To be inside yourself and yet travel away to a place of relief is such a gift.
Most of my recent posts have been reacting to/capitalizing on that latter ‘gift’ notion. I am escaping. However, I often feel that pressure to craft when for me the escape is truly to write, to vent, to admit and confess. I do consider a little before the key strokes start and sometimes a spontaneous essay emerges. But other times, like tonight, I just want the words to fall out of me, like walking to a pond and dropping pebbles in, one by one, just to hear the plunk.
Tonight, I am sitting at home, alone, on the floor, with my back against the sofa that I love but only sit on about 50% of the time I occupy the living room. My phone is close to me. An unusual condition and not one of my favorites. I am hoping that an optimistic professional call won’t occur until tomorrow morning, but I invited said professional to call me tonight. Until 10 PM if need be, but all I really want to is to go to bed. Because I’m tired. Because I psychically arm-wrestled 70 adolescents for 350 minutes of a 400 minute day. Because a girl fell off a stool in my class and hit her head and while I was dealing with that two other girls nearly escalated to a fist fight. Because I have a job interview tomorrow and need to get another application in the mail. Because Thanksgiving is almost here and I want to enjoy it. Because sleep rivals writing for sweet (healthy) oblivion. Because what happened today just seemed so normal. And that’s just a pity.
Good night words. Thank you for falling.