Why Blog

I used to write a lot.

An avid journal-keeper since the 7th grade, an earnest Xanga confessor, I not only wanted to record my thought processes for the amusement of my future self, I also wanted a way to dramatize the events of my life into a coherent narrative, one where I was the star of a kick-ass story. One part narcissism, one part—like the ancient Greeks and other myth-makers—storytelling as a means of making sense of the world and fulfilling the central human need of finding purpose in life.

I read an article in the Atlantic recently that made me think about this, about experiencing life with the expectation of later artistic interpretation. I mean, if you're planning on writing, tweeting, or otherwise packaging your experience for later distribution, you experience an event through the filter of that intention. You think about which aspects you could later dramatize, which parts you might omit, your audience in mind.

I've debated this with friends about photographing, journaling, and otherwise recording events—does it make the experience less authentic, with such a filter? Does it simply make you more attuned to detail? Which is better, living in the moment, or capturing the moment for posterity?

I remember my childhood frustration with my shutter-happy dad, who always carried around a minimum of two cameras and a bag full of lenses on every family vacation. I hated posing in front of each and every monument for the umpteenth photo. Why can't you just put down the camera and enjoy the moment? I'd think. It's a shame to view this city through the viewfinder of the camera, and not your own eyes.

Afterwards though, my sister and I would always delight in the photos that filled the stacks of albums around our house, and look back on them in later years as a way to relive the experience again and again. So who was right?

I still don't know what's right, and these are things I ponder in the decision to take up blogging again. The primary reason I'm interested in blogging, though, actually rests in just how long it's been since I've written anything. This former notepad-scribbler, aspiring author, essay-writer, English major hasn't penned a piece of writing for over a year (!) Too busy working at picking up employable skills, building a social life in a new city, and learning to be an adult. There's a part of me that feels like a writing muscle somewhere has grown weak from disuse, in danger of atrophy.

So here I am, blogging, writing, recording events for posterity, trying to make meaning of life. I'm imagining this blog as mostly a personal collection of thoughts and projects (artistic and otherwise), and maybe I might even pick up some readers along the way.