Why Blag [Writing]
One of my favorite XKCD moments.
A Brief History of Blagging
2000
At 16, I had a secret Xanga account, mostly about how much I hated my parents/family/school, and enjoyed a little audience of angsty teenagers like myself who expressed themselves through glittery letters on their banners.
2000
At 16, I had a secret Xanga account, mostly about how much I hated my parents/family/school, and enjoyed a little audience of angsty teenagers like myself who expressed themselves through glittery letters on their banners.
2001
In university, I moved to LiveJournal where all the "serious writers" lived. Here I posted entries I had zero balls to present in writing workshops and courses. I'd gotten over publicly ranting about my angst, but just by a little bit.
2002
I discovered Blogger and caught the fresh-start bug. Fresh-start here means a brand new blogging template/platform. I started sharing posts with people I knew in real life. It was mentally draining.
2005
I moved back to Jeddah. Which meant another fresh-start. New blog, new template, new posts. My entries were regular, "spontaneous", daily snippets of my life at the time, written magazine-style for an invisible, probably non-existent audience. They were anything but spontaneous. I'd labor through each post - outlining, researching words and phrases, writing style, tone - and for the first time, got into a circle of bloggers I knew in person.
2008
I made peace with the fact that I was voluntarily putting myself out there, personal information that people might use against me, everything easily accessible online. I made blogger friends, and people in my real-life circle started reading my blog, including my boss and co-workers.
Present Day
I'm still here. I sometimes can't believe I've been doing this for almost 13 years. I'd ask "where did the time go?" but I can easily answer that just by looking through old posts.
The Whys and the Wherefores
So what is this constant need to overshare and publish? Is it at all connected to some kind of reverse voyeurism? Am I so starved for validation and attention? Just a few questions I've been asked about why I do this.
The simple answer is yes and no.
In blogging, I've learned to balance the innate writer's need to get approval for written work, and the need to not give a shit what others think. Here, I wield the power to "show some leg" and then just as abruptly kick people out. It's a perversion we don't like to admit to, I'm sure, but it exists.
Blogging itself is a living, breathing disclaimer, a total contradiction of itself, a promise that everything here is Raw Truth while at the same time a Raging Lie.
Are You Not Into Trains?
I started blogging on the romantic notion that there should exist a record of my life, of words I string together, of how people perceived me and how I perceived myself.
Now it's all just entertainment, and entertainment practice. It's a happy accident that you get information, my dearest, most invisible reader. I clown myself to you.
Are you not entertained?
In university, I moved to LiveJournal where all the "serious writers" lived. Here I posted entries I had zero balls to present in writing workshops and courses. I'd gotten over publicly ranting about my angst, but just by a little bit.
2002
I discovered Blogger and caught the fresh-start bug. Fresh-start here means a brand new blogging template/platform. I started sharing posts with people I knew in real life. It was mentally draining.
2005
I moved back to Jeddah. Which meant another fresh-start. New blog, new template, new posts. My entries were regular, "spontaneous", daily snippets of my life at the time, written magazine-style for an invisible, probably non-existent audience. They were anything but spontaneous. I'd labor through each post - outlining, researching words and phrases, writing style, tone - and for the first time, got into a circle of bloggers I knew in person.
2008
I made peace with the fact that I was voluntarily putting myself out there, personal information that people might use against me, everything easily accessible online. I made blogger friends, and people in my real-life circle started reading my blog, including my boss and co-workers.
Present Day
I'm still here. I sometimes can't believe I've been doing this for almost 13 years. I'd ask "where did the time go?" but I can easily answer that just by looking through old posts.
The Whys and the Wherefores
So what is this constant need to overshare and publish? Is it at all connected to some kind of reverse voyeurism? Am I so starved for validation and attention? Just a few questions I've been asked about why I do this.
The simple answer is yes and no.
In blogging, I've learned to balance the innate writer's need to get approval for written work, and the need to not give a shit what others think. Here, I wield the power to "show some leg" and then just as abruptly kick people out. It's a perversion we don't like to admit to, I'm sure, but it exists.
Blogging itself is a living, breathing disclaimer, a total contradiction of itself, a promise that everything here is Raw Truth while at the same time a Raging Lie.
Are You Not Into Trains?
I started blogging on the romantic notion that there should exist a record of my life, of words I string together, of how people perceived me and how I perceived myself.
Now it's all just entertainment, and entertainment practice. It's a happy accident that you get information, my dearest, most invisible reader. I clown myself to you.
Are you not entertained?
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