By that I mean, I have to do something every day. I have to try to write something entertaining, pointed, thoughtful or smart. That's my job as a blogger.
I'll admit, after nearly 12 years and just under 5,000 posts--I'd estimate one-million words--writing in the space has become a compulsion.
But a good compulsion.
Because once a day, no matter how invidious, insidious and just plain stupid work can seem at times, I've got a leg up on a lot of people. I've found a way to write and to be read and to be known (and respected) that goes beyond what I do for a living.
No matter what happens during the sturm und drang of a time-sheeted day, I've carved a few moments out for myself where I do something mostly for me. Something I like, that I'm relatively proud of.
Sure, it's not much. It ain't literature. There's nothing lasting here.
But still, in this space, I've found something special. Psychiatrists might call it a "restorative niche." That is, a place or a time where, for a short while, I take care of myself. I can use my brain and my writing skill and my verbal acuity and sometimes my sense of humor and throw something out to the world that I like.
I can even be loud and angry if I choose. And no one seems to get loud and angry back. At least not to my face.
The one time people did accuse me of being things I'm not and never was, well even that blew over after a fraught week or so.
The one time people did accuse me of being things I'm not and never was, well even that blew over after a fraught week or so.
And every so often, I send out something that people seem to like. For instance, a post last week's already received something like 20,000 views and hundreds of likes. Another one got 15,000 views. It's nice when that happens. But it's nice also when I write something that I like and no one else seems to respond. That's ok, too.
Because while popularity is nice, doing something you like is even nicer.
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