My Fifth Blogoversary (Part One)
This is the first part of a two-part blog post. One post simply grew too long to contain everything I wanted to say.
Five years ago, I started this blog.
Five years ago, I started this blog. When I read about blogoversaries back when I first started this blog, I couldn’t fathom celebrating my own. Certainly not my five-year one. And while you eight- or ten-year bloggers may scoff at my piddly five-year marker, those who are just starting out are probably looking at this number the way I did five years ago. How the hell does it happen?
How does someone open a post box and write a new post, day after day after day? I have never stepped away from the blog for longer than a few days. How do you blog the same holidays year after year? Life keeps revolving — years are circular — but blogs are linear. They keep moving in a straight line of events while life circles back around, the same themes constantly surfacing, the same foibles revealed, the same struggles fought.
You feel love, you feel love, you feel love.
And you need to keep writing this linear project, keeping it fresh and interesting to yourself because if you’re bored, then what is the point?
You reach a five-year anniversary, you write several thousand posts, simply by doing it. By falling in love with your blog and taking all that comes with that relationship. The sweet moments when the comments are high, the dry moments where you can’t think about what to write. The blog posts that bring you nothing but tears. The blog posts that you would cry about if you ever lost.
Because love is never easy. Love is messy; and it’s wonderful in its messiness. And if you love your blog, you too will one day look at the calendar and realize that you are celebrating a five-year blogoversary.
Five years ago, I started this blog. People have asked me before if I’ve ever thought about walking away from it. Of course I have thought about it. I think it is natural to be in a mood and take out that mood on something or someone you love. You know who will be forgiving and who won’t be.
You probably just made a face and thought to yourself, but a blog is an inanimate object. It’s like saying that you’ve taken out your mood on a dish.
But you’re not inanimate, are you? Every reader is a living, breathing human.
(You are human, right? The aliens haven’t arrived yet, right? I am a little freaked out from the Falling Skies opening episode.)
Therefore, you take a chance when you take out your mood on a blog because it’s like coral — you think you are standing on a rock, something that can’t feel pain or react to the pressure of your foot, and then you discover that coral is actually a living organism, capable of dying.
A blog is quite similar. If you think of it as an inanimate object, you’re being careless. Blogs are living organisms with very real people attached to the word core. People who are affected by what you choose to place on the screen. They will laugh or they will cry or they will think; but they can also walk away angry, frustrated, or filled with grief.
I am human, and I lash out just like every other human from time to time. I take out my mood on this blog, and I think about walking away from it. But like all good relationships, this blog has the elasticity to bend without breaking. You pull away. I pull away. And then we regroup and come back together. And I write yet again.
Takes Four and Five coming soon.