Once upon a time, not all that long ago, I was a blogger.
I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was. I wrote and shared – pseudo-insightful things – about life and my experiences dealing with it. Occasionally these things struck a chord with people and they would write to me, to say thanks and let me know what they had found amusing or been inspired to do.
It was lovely. In fact, those inspired responses also inspired me: to “keep doing what I was doing”, “do more things” and so on. So I did!
The problem was that, somewhere along the line, the “things” started getting the better of me. I never stopped over-analysing everything and feeling the need to write it all down, but I no longer had the time or energy to actually make notes and publish thoughts. The doing of the stuff was so all-consuming that I failed to write about it.
To a blogger, that is death. I’ve just about managed to keep up the facade by having a fairly regular (if somewhat backdated) series of posts from the last 18 months, but even a cursory glance through my recent posts reveals their lack of depth.
I’ve started treating my blog like Facebook: posting a few cheery images with a vague description of what is going on. Posts are snapshots. The only interesting part about their content is the total lack of it, which reveals the fact that I am mentally and physically exhausted.
The thing is, a standalone public blog that is nothing more than a list of news items and photos is basically a vanity project. “Look at all the stuff I seem to have done!”. Sure, all blogs are basically just vanity projects, but for a while my little vanity project was making a small difference to an even smaller number of people.
So I’m going to try to be better at it from now on.