It seems to be a diary. A personal diary, documenting your life, or your mind's life, intended for public viewing. A strange concept, don’t you think? Writing a personal journal for public consumption.
It seems to validate formerly irrelevant things. Like pictures you take of the eye make-up that just worked, or of that great outfit you put together only to be wasted on an uneventful day, and the scene of the last rays of sunlight decorating clouds that you’re really proud of capturing. Post them on your blog and they are remembered, made worthwhile, and graced with the views you felt they deserved.
It fulfils thoughts, too. It’s the end of their journey; an outlet for completed ideas. They start as an edge to other musings. They colour them, make you considering things in a new light. Then they break off and become independent; a new entity in your mind. They grow and develop. You accept that you are having a slow epiphany, excuse the oxymoron. You reach the end. Your thought is fully formed. You’ve grown a little. And that’s good. It has widened your mind in a tiny, verging on insignificant way. The thought is logged in your memory. You won’t revisit it much; how boring, to rethink a thought. So what’s next? The poor thought probably feels cheated; it expected a grander end.
Then you post it on your blog.
And then there is your mental voice. Have you ever, while listening to your inner voice, thought ‘wouldn’t it be great if someone could hear this?’ Of course, then you might worry that the object of your private monologue can hear it. You snuff out the silent witty words but giggle to yourself; it really was priceless stuff. What then? You know what.
Art! I have to be in a particular state of mind to lie on my bedroom floor and remain there for hours drawing or painting. I get covered in acrylic colours or 8b pencil smudges. I’m not sure how it happens, but it does. I end up with what I consider a work of art. (It is a piece of art and I worked-what else could it be, right?) So why not give others a look?
The photos, the thoughts, the silent words, the ‘artistic creations’; they are all ends in themselves. You don’t do those things for a blog. You just do them.
I don’t really know what a blog is.