Last night, I was finishing off a piece on my adoption blog while listening to Adele, as The Hubby walked in the door from his late meeting. He could see I was far off in what I call “Writing Land”, so he asked what I was writing about.
I told him, “Oh, just about our discussion last night on adoption, and post traumatic stress disorder.” I then went on and said, “I got the best compliment today from a girl I went to high school with. I’m pretty sure she’s one of the most intelligent women I know, and she said she liked my writing. I never really know if anyone is really reading and enjoying, so it was nice to hear”.
He paused, looking up from his Iphone, which had him captivated,
“People read your blogs?”
I cringed, and said, “Well, yeah, I think so. I’ve had a couple of people reference them to me in conversations.”
“Oh”, was the reply as he returned to his Iphone.
This discussion absolutely did not turn into a discussion about how it sucks that he has no interest in the things I am passionate about…And I did not find out that he has never, ever, clicked on this blog or my other blog at any time, despite them being available via Facebook, or being left up on the computer we share.
If I pretend that conversation didn’t happen, I won’t get terribly upset. And, really, I promise he’s not that sucky of a husband. I really just blame this lack of interest in my hobbies on his childhood. I assume, that somewhere a long the line someone failed to instill a love of reading, no one stressed how important it was to read throughout adulthood to keep your mind fresh, or even taught him to use his imagination to read. Someone also failed to tell him it’s important to be energetic about your significant other’s plights, no matter what they are..Instead he’s got mad love for video games, hockey, sports, Family Guy and himself.
At least he has a good self-esteem?
However, it did get me to thinking about the culture of blogging. Why do we document our opinions, our lives, our experiences? What drives someone to sit down sometimes daily to write a piece that we have no guarantee will even be seen by anyone on the internet?
My history with blogging started when my best friend in High School showed me the idea of journaling online. At that point, I’m not sure blogger existed, maybe it did, but a lot of the “blogs” out there were lower key, not overly popular. I wrote in a blog over at Diaryland (which is surprisingly still around?!), and it had pieces about my teenage troubles. The love I had for certain boys, when I became pregnant, and then when I had The Kiddo. And I continued to document for the world until I was slapped with the reality that sometimes, some things are not necessarily net appropriate. I thank The Ex for that lesson.
I wound up on Livejournal, again, documenting life, pictures, and ranting(I am good at that). When I go back and read some of the things I wrote back in 2004, I giggle at the dramatic way I looked at life. I am filled with sadness as I read about my feelings when I finally split from The Ex. I roll my eyes when I read about the friend who pretended to support me through my adoption, then shoved it all in my face, four years later. I have the major points of my life documented, and it’s incredible to walk back in time to see what I have learned. To realize that I have learned SO much.
Then, of course, I think of all the connections I have made through my blogs over the years; some have been fleeting, but there are a handful of women, and men that I have met through reading their blogs, and sharing our lives via writing that have made their way into my life almost permanently it seems. Some have watched as I relinquished The Kiddo for adoption. Some walked me through the uncertain path of divorce, then of finding unconditional love for “real”. We have watched each other grow, stumble, and learn.
Really, that’s why I do it. For the growth, for sharing, and for sharpening my writing skills. Whether there are people who religiously read my blog with baited breath, or it just sits out there in the blogosphere, untouched, I know that it’s doing someone some good- me. Surely that’s reason enough to continue writing. I love writing, I always have (so says the Grade 9 Language Arts Class I took). Why not share that love with the world, whether it’s read or not?
So, take that, Hubby. I write for me. Even if you don’t read it. People still play hockey, even if no one watches.