Andrei Andrei has been posting to his blog recently. If you don’t know the story, Andrei is the reason I started blogging. Well, Andrei and this idea his blog gave me for a short story about a woman blogger who falls for a male model because of his blog. I had no clue what blogging was about. I mean, I’ve been out here on the net a long ass time. I’ve had more incarnations of my website than I’ve had hair color. I’ve had message boards for years. Never once did I have the urge to blog.
Frankly, I didn’t really know what the whole blogging thing was about. I figured why blog when all my friends came to the message boards and chats to see what I had to say? Why should I bother with a blog? Well, I certainly learned that lesson in the last six months. The reasons for blogging are myriad, but the biggest one is the people.
When I created this blog (not Sunlight Sucks, but the original one on Blogger), I had a couple of people come by and comment. Some days, it’s still like that. I’m not that amusing. I don’t really have a schtick, other than the fact that I write fictional vampires, and I don’t always give you the deep details of my life and psyche, let alone cool cartoons with a monkey who picks his nose and eats urinal cakes. (Gawd, I love that cartoon!) I’m not sure why people keep coming back here except that in the cases of some, it’s because I read and comment on their blog.
The Blogger Circle of Life, as I explained to Motley when I created Socially Dead for her, is that you visit other blogs and comment. Then those people reciprocate. I told her, there are some people whose new blog posts you can’t wait for (ie Snackiepoo because you never know what facet of Hilly she will reveal today), and there are some that you love every day… except maybe one day a week (ie Avitable whose Lazy Sunday is all Greek to me because I’m a workaholic who writes all the time and never goes to movies or remembers crap from songs.) There are people whose blogs you love, even though they don’t read you, and there are those who are meticulous about always coming by and leaving thoughtful, inciteful comments. There are people who read you most of the time, but only comment once in awhile. When they do, they leave you laughing your ass off, or chuckling in your coffee at their pithyness, or snorting over their particular brand of commenting.
There are others who are always supportive of what you’re doing, even if they can’t get to your posts for a few days. Some do drivebys on you and say something short and to the point or especially perceptive. Others have become fans, because you’ve become fans of them. Some wish they could come by more, but always bring good wishes when they do. And there are always people who come by, because you have things in common with them, like writing in my case. Finally, there are people who visit your blog because they love you or have known you forever.
Not everyone posts comments every day. Not everyone reads you every day. But every day is a journey and sometimes the road takes you places you haven’t been before. Like the process of writing itself, some things are always in flux while other things are constants. The journeys I take each day through these places are all things that help make me a better writer, a better blogger, and maybe even a better person. It’s a path I’ve come to late, but like I usually do with things that are challenging and interesting, I’ve embraced it and immersed myself in the culture.
It’s a rich culture, too. Every sight (and site) and sound in 3D. These people… this culture… well, I’m not quite sure how it happened, but my journeys brought me to them, and now I find that no matter how painful the day may be (and lately they have been excruciatingly painful) I can’t get through the day very well without them via blog posts, Flickr pics, twats, or IMs.
The People’s Republic of Blogistan… long may it reign! And don’t forget to bring bacon and chocolate pudding along on your journeys through this country. The peasants might spork you to death if you don’t embrace the pudi-cake-a-cookie.
