How I learned to stop worrying and love the blog

Now I too shall blog. I've decided to get with the times and start posting. Yes, I'm in between gen X and Y and still this is my first blog entry outside of that medium known as myspace. I even work in the tech sector and have for years. The way I initially experienced blogging set me off in a negative way. When I first came across the concept of blogging I thought it was a crap idea thinking of it as an online journal. Who posts ones most secret thoughts for the entire world to sift through and consume? Furthermore, would I want to read the fruit of what I assumed to be an extreme exhibitionist mind? I had caught glimpses of the web during its wild west phase reading the products of rolling eyed lunatics with their conspiracies, the gentle helpful geeks with their measured explanations, the humorists whose comedic style could not be tolerated on late night cable, the brilliant and socially backward all assembled in this electronic frontier. I was happy to laugh at their hijinks or learn from their help pages but I didn't actually want to read their diaries.

When my first friend fell to blogging I couldn't even bring myself to read it. The process felt invasive, like sifting through her garbage in a hotel room after spring break. I didn't need to know. Eventually, more and more of my friends - excellent writers all - started blogging. Still I resisted. The mechanism seemed bizarre. This is a broadcast sent out to all and sundry. I'm not all and sundry. I'm an individual and perhaps my communication with said friends should be more on a personal level. Feeling a bit miffed (you'd tell *anyone* that? I thought I was special!) I chose not to read. Anyhow, I was already getting the inside scoop actually hearing my friends recount these stories over the phone. I read a few posts here and there, but that voyeuristic feeling lingered. The transition from interlocutor to narrator was driving me a little batty. I have a sister who blogs on extended travels. It's an excellent read. I've always thought that was what blogging was all about - Can't talk now. This is what I'm up to. Catch up with you later. My life simply isn't that interesting.

Eventually, it was vanity that brought me around. Last night at a birthday party another friend told me that he had given me a blog name of Xena lesbian princess or something to that effect. I was flattered not just because I love the idea of being associated with Lucy Lawless, but that he had written about me. I had to see what he said. This morning after a slew of offline journalling I read his blog over a cup of tea looking for traces of myself. I either couldn't find it or he hadn't written the entry yet, but I was absorbed by the entries. I found them funny and honest and well - refreshing. It was like reading a magazine published for and by a specific clique. He has light entries and entries with plenty of sturm und drang, and at the end of it all I didn't think any less of him or think he was an exhibitionist. I was glad he had written it, and I was glad to have read it.

So, now I have a better appreciation for the blogosphere. It doesn't replace any dearly held communication mechanics. It doesn't aggrandize idiocy anymore than the reader allows. Really it adds to personal interaction giving people a chance to catch up with each other - and oh how helpful when it comes to the shifting schedule.

So now I'm off to hit the road and enjoy the day.