Friday, January 09, 2004

Why don't I blog...

I was thinking about this: "Why don't I hardly ever blog?"

Some of my friends blog furiously. Take James for example. Blogs nearly every day, rain or shine.

As for me, I’ve got three different blogs started. This one I blog on the most. DreamDreamer I blog on about 1/10th as often as I blog here. Then HolyGeorgia I’ve only blogged once.

I keep thinking about blogging: Oh, I think. I don’t really care for the “theme” of my main blog. I should start another blog that is “the writer’s journey” and do all my literary journalism on the blog itself.

But then I would have Four Blogs, and would probably not keep up with any of them any better.

To remedy the situation, I’ve considered becoming less “thematic” – making this blog right here my “writer’s journey” and blogging my literary thoughts, impressions and feelings right here.

The phrase comes to mind: “Your life is an open book.” Well, yes, I guess it would be if I blogged my every thought.

But, on the other hand, if I blogged my every thought, I believe the blog would be indecent.

Then I’ve considered morphing DreamDreamer into a fictional “literary journal” of a fictional writer that I can incarnate from a safe distance. That way I could give him all my unclean and absurd thoughts, and say it is all just fiction.

But then how would I characterize this fictitious personage, this writer who is struggling for some sense of accomplishment in his art? Would he be just like me, or would I make him somehow different? And really, that is the Big Question. If he is like me, but only a dim reflection in a dirty mirror: is he not still me?

When he lifts his right hand, I lift my left. When he winks at me with his right eye, I wink back with my left. I tug on my beard and he tugs on his beard. I adjust my glasses, taking them off to clean off the spots, and he vanishes in a blur.

That’s the other me there, that blurry one. And if the blurry underside of my subconscious is an open book, am I not also an open book too?

Being “open” and making bare your soul to the world is a form of nudity that I am not comfortable with. In fact, I think I would sooner walk down the street naked, sooner streak across the field at a base ball game, than lay bare my soul to the world. Yet when I write, even fiction, is that not exactly what I am doing?

I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about it yet, but one thing is sure: I’m going to make more of an effort to blog. I have an assignment in my college class this quarter to begin literary journaling. I am going to see if I can some how integrate the assignment with blogging.

So, more is coming soon!