Yesterday, a lady in the Midwest whose blog I've followed and enjoyed for a couple of years, announced she was quitting blogging. She pointed out how she'd noticed posts on many blogs were coming ever farther apart, and wondered if the "craze" for blogging wasn't winding down. Time had become an issue for her. So had having something to say—or at least she felt she'd wish to say on her blog. Finally, she admitted she'd lost her joy in blogging, and felt she needed friends with "real skin" to relate to in person rather than online.
Please understand, I'm not taking her to task. She has every right to make such a decision, though I'm truly sorry to see her go. Still, I understand her reasoning because I've mulled over several of the same points, and asked myself the logical end question: Keep blogging…or not?
The answer, I found, centered on three things—motivation, goal, and personality.
First, why did I begin blogging? My first post pretty much summed it up…I'd failed repeatedly at keeping a journal, diary, daybook, or other form of written record, but for a number of reasons wanted to do so—and thought the online format of a blog, along with the feeling of responsibility to any readers I happened to garner, might supply that extra impetus to keep going.
I did not begin because I thought I had anything particularly newsworthy, insightful, or entertaining to relate. I wasn't looking to convert the world, or make folks love me. And didn't need a platform for regular ranting.
Second, my goal was, as the welcome to Riverdaze states, "simply to report, as regular as I can manage, on life and the seasons from my home perspective of a modest stone cottage beside a small, sycamore-lined Ohio river."
That hasn't changed.
Third, the part personality plays cannot, I think, be ignored. As many of you know, I'm a professional writer. I'm comfortable sitting down writing as a form of communication. I'm also an inveterate reader. I've had my "head in a book," as my mother used to say, since before I began kindergarten. I was also an only child, and chronically ill. For years, I regularly spent more time inside the house—and inside my head—than out. Alone but rarely lonely.
Paradoxically, I love people, gatherings, parties, crowds, and don't mind mixing with strangers. I'm definitely a "people person." Yet I can toss a sleeping bag into the pickup and go off into the north woods for a couple of weeks of fishing, hiking, camping, and just poking along overgrown two-tracks, never speak to a soul, and have a perfectly delightful time.
However, the fact is, a blog reader, someone I'm talking to on the telephone, or that living, breathing "in the flesh" visitor in my home or at a meeting in a café over a meal, are equally real to me. Sure, I'd like to get to know in person everyone who reads these posts. But we're truly scattered all around the globe—so there's not much likelihood of that ever happening. Yet you're nonetheless real, I'm still real, and we can read each other's blogs, look at each other's photos, and be genuine friends.
Yeah, I know I've been slacking lately on posts. And really slacking on comments on other blogs, though I do usually visit. Time is partially to blame. So is the fact that I often read other blogs on my iPod…which is an abomination for me when it comes to leaving a comment. But at the heart of the slacking is mostly just procrastination and laziness—which I'm constantly trying to counteract. Honest.
I still don't think I have anything earth-shattering to say. But I've realized that several blogs I regularly read are no more or less chronicles of their rather equally boring life (no, not yours…don't go all paranoid on me), and yet there's something about this ordinary minutiae that is oddly interesting and very enjoyable. So I guess it follows that you could consider this admission fair warning.
I've been humbly surprised by many of your comments over the years, and so very grateful for your words of encouragement and understanding. Moreover, I've been astonished by the pleasure occasionally expressed over a certain post or photo, and the fact that you often get a kick out of my shared small adventures. To me, life's greatest joy is all about sharing. The fact that I now have 114 followers is also an astonishing mystery—but I do treasure each and every one. While the number varies from time to time, when I lose someone, I always worry that it was because of something I said, some thoughtless remark which struck them as unkind. I hope not, for everything else aside, I want you enjoy your visits to the riverbank.
Bottom line…to blog, or not? For me, blogging is not a fad. I promise, I'm here for the long haul.
———————
41 comments:
HI GRIZZ - phew. I am so glad. My latest post speaks of my not being as visible but certainly still blogging and reading, just a bit less since I am actively writing my book again. PLEASE go to my post and tell me your thoughts about the piece of my book I posted. I would really appreciate feed back from you.
I am here to stay too Grizz -
love to you always
Gail
peace.....
Gail…
Yup, I may go too long between posts, be boring, trivial, silly, overly mouthy, occasionally snarky, illogically opinionated or even—gasp!—wrong, or just IYHO full of something…but I am, like a wart on a toad, here to stay.
I went, I read, I thought, I commented.
I am pleased to hear it Grizz. As for why one blogs - you have summed it up much better than I could but my sentiments are the same. It helps to keep me focussed, it is a daily task which keeps me on my toes, I love the contact and consider many of the people I blog with as friends. I have met quite a few of them, including Elizabeth while in New York and I would not stop blogging for the world. I love your blog - you make your little part of the world come alive for me.
Well said, Grizz. And no need to apologise about 'slacking' or not commenting or any perceived 'laziness'. What, lazy, you? Uh? The fact is we have no obligation to do anything while blogging or reading blogs. There is no duty, or pressure to write this or that, or respond in such and such a way. That's the beauty of blogging. And so, what we give, and what we receive, is a true gift, from the heart. And your own blog — which I've followed almost from the beginning— is a real gift, my friend.
Friends can be friends whether they meet in the flesh or not, I agree. And the bloggers I have actually, physically met have been people who like people — though with an independent, solitudinous spirit too. A great combination — for me, at least (and, I know, for you as well).
I've had this feeling for a while----has the blogging fad run its course? Am I kidding myself that anyone would be interested in the trivia I write? Your words are encouraging though....I have journals scattered all over in nooks and crannies, but they always seem to fall by the wayside. Blogging, even sporadically, keeps the scribbling all in one place.... keeps it somewhat
I think one of the joys, to me, of blogging is reading the small stories of every day life in other parts of the world. The weather, the photos of places I will never see, making places I had never heard of realities.
I sometimes feel my blog is pretty boring as the older I get the less I do, but it also keeps me in contact with friends aroung the world.
I am glad you will continue to blog.
I'm glad you're here for the long haul, I plan to continue blogging as well though I'm more spasmodic than I used to be. I've been blogging since August 2007 and I've realised that sometimes I've plenty write about and sometimes life is humdrum and there are only so many things I can write about Blackamoor in January:) Also sometimes life is busy and I simply don't have time. Sooner or later I get round to posting though because, like you, I use my blog as a kind of diary. So here's to many more posts from both of us!
The fact that you have 114 followers is a testament to the value of your blog. Please don't stop (which I don't think you'll do anyway). You mentioned feeling a bit out of sorts after the holidays; maybe you can attribute some of these "second thoughts" about blogging to post-holidays "blah."
Weaver…
You and your blog have been a delight and inspiration to me since the very beginning of Riverdaze. In fact, whenever I'm feeling jaded, I think of your wonderful long and varied list of of postings—with only minor exceptions, daily!—and know I'm simply looking for an excuse to not write. You, along with Robert, of Solitary Walker fame, and Carolyn at Roundtop Ruminations, are, each in their own way, archetype bloggers to me—paradigms in their ability to never be stale regardless of subject, while regularly delivering.
Moreover, I have no trouble thinking of you as a genuine friend, and the same goes for Robert and Carolyn, along with several other of my readers whom I've gotten to know over the years. To date, I've never met in person a single one of these blogging friends—yet they're folks I already know I like and trust; the sort I could share time with on "my" riverbank, or would be equally comfortable visiting in their blogging bailiwick.
As you noted, blogging keeps you focused. Too, any writer will tell you writing is the best exercise for writing better, and I sometimes need a prod to make me sit and put words on a page.
Thank you, as always, for your kind and thoughtful comments. Know that while I'm remiss in commenting regularly, I'm never remiss in reading…and I'll try an do better.
HI AGAIN - I answered your frustration over at my blog but I will answer you here too. Meadow Lark said.... "your husband raped your best friend"!!..... that is the horror over which Dara was rocking and moaning and of which she could not speak.
love to you
Gail
peace......
Solitary…
Thank you for this comment. It means a great deal to me because yours (see my reply to Weaver) was one of the first blogs I read, long before I began Riverdaze. It was, and remains, a blog I've admired.
Shucks, I could even get envious over your marvelous trekking adventures, literary erudition, and considerable writing skills, except I like you too well and simply can't bring myself to be jealous of a genuine friend and obvious superior. Dang it! :-)
No, friends don't have to meet in the flesh to be friends. Kindred spirits gather beyond the boundaries of geography. Regardless of whether or not the physical meeting ever takes place—and I hope it does—our friendship will thrive, in emails and blog posts, no less real for the intervening distance.
Well, first of all, I'm delighted that you are here for the long haul. I, for one, would miss these regular postings from the riverbank cottage, which, from my perspective, can be considered a microcosm of the world itself.
This was a very thoughtful post, and the question of whether or not to blog—or keep on blogging—has undoubtedly crossed the minds of many of us. I have resolved to stay on board, however, for several reasons. First, like you, I have an insatiable love for both reading and writing, and the short essay is one of my favorite forms of communication. Second, I'm naturally curious about almost everything. In fact, one of my strongest curiosities involves other people. How do others experience the world; how does my experience compare with the experience of my fellow man and woman; what do others have to teach me? Finally, and most importantly, blogging is a venue in which, for the most part, inner lives are communicating honestly with other inner lives. That stands in stark contrast with the offline world, in which I personally find a considerable amount of superficiality and pretension.
My blogging friends do not seem less "real" than my offline friends. Indeed, while I should not generalize too much, I often feel they are more real. Unlike conventional social relationships, we don't communicate with one another online unless feel at some level that we have something in common with one another.
Molly…
Everyone has to answer that question individually. I wonder the same thing…does this blog matter to anyone? The best answer is that it matters to me. I HOPE it matters to others. I WANT it to matter to others. But if it doesn't, I want it to matter to me enough that I keep writing—because I know that one day, perhaps long after I'm gone, someone—a future family member, perhaps—MIGHT find it interesting. Just that possibility is sufficient. I'll lay down the record, imperfect as it certainly is, and let time and fate deal with it however it works out.
Read my very first Riverdaze post. (It's linked into the post text.) I have my own stack of abandoned journals, diaries, and daybooks. For all it's faults, this is the longest and best I've ever managed as to record-keeping.
I say write.
Penny…
There's a blog I read that has nothing to do with nature, or practically anything, so far as I can determine. It's simply the irregular chronicle of an old guy in a distant country, detailing work he is doing around his modest house, trips to the nearby village market, the more distant city, stops along the way for breakfast or lunch and the foods and drink consumed, troubles with his aging auto, troubles with his aging body, a book read, a news article, a day at the seaside, etc.
Important? Nope. Boring? Well, yeah, because it sounds alarmingly like many of my own days. Yet strangely addictive. And the lesson here, which I'm just beginning to learn, is that people are interesting just being people.
Keep writing your blog. Your friends will continue to read and be grateful for your writing.
I would terribly miss the photos of water,sky or trees,and the descriptions of your meals-thanks for letting me imagine living beside running water.You make my day.
Rowan…
"Spasmodic," hey I like that…that's exactly how some of my blogging periods seem to unfold, spasmodically. And I'm certainly glad to hear you're also in this for the long haul.
As I said in one of my comment replies above, I'm beginning to figure out that much of the problems I sometimes feel about not having anything worthwhile or interesting to say is really not a valid point, unless I'm casting around for an excuse for not blogging. I'm Irish. In some green and misty age long, long ago, a little sprite who dwelled under a ledge beside a magic spring—doubtless a leprechaun—zapped a predecessor in my gene pool with the gift of gab. I can, and regularly do, rattle on about nothing for hours on end. I live in a place with lots of birds and other critters, a river on my doorstep, and a lifetime of misadventures should I feel nostalgic. I have thousands of books on my shelves—and I could always write about at least some of ideas they contain.
You live in a charming place in a lovely part of the world with history and views in every direction. You're erudite, and I've never read a blog of yours I didn't like. I expect you could write about breakfast and it would be an enjoyable read.
Humdrum? Who cares! Finding time is another matter, and sometimes it's impossible. But I suspect many of us make blogging more difficult than it has to be because we keep waiting for the big adventure, the sudden insight, the WORTHY POST to jump out of the woodwork and scream to be written.
So I'll take you up on that toast to continued blogging…and let's both try and not over-complicate what we're doing.
Gail…
Dear Lord! Obviously not a light-reading tale ahead. Thanks, I think.
Scott…
No, I'm not going to stop, for a number of reasons—one big one being getting acquainted with folks like you who become friends. Whether this blog has any real value…I dunno. I am, however, amazed at the number of readers/followers, and the places they come from. I never thought I'd hit fifty. One hundred seemed out of the question. But I really do appreciate every single person—and that's what they always are to me, not readers or followers, but people. With limited time, who choose to spend a portion at Riverdaze. Just amazing! And…humbling.
George…
I really appreciate your kind remarks. Thank you.
As to my riverbank being a microcosm of the world, it would have to be a somewhat skewed view, as I'm the first to admit I've been counterculture all my life—incapable of going with the herd, and unconcerned completely about what the herd thinks of my independence. I'm pretty old-school, some might uncharitably say provincial. More and more I find myself returning to the basics, which is probably a suspect comment coming from fellow who is currently discussing blogging via a Mac hooked to the Internet.
I liked your points on why you blog…your fondness for essays (which I wholeheartedly share), your curiosity regarding how others experience the world in comparison to you (ditto), but what I really love is the observation that "blogging is a venue in which, for the most part, inner lives are communicating honestly with other inner lives." Wow! That's a gem. Chrystal truth.
For me, though, the very best part of your comment was the revelation you, too, had mulled the "to blog, or not" question over and decided to keep going. That's really great news!
...perfect, Grizz. I'm glad you're going to keep reporting the goings-on of your part of the Little Miami river. I always seem to learn something when I visit (even if it's just noticing a well-constsructed sentence you've written and learning from it!). Like you, I started blogging because I wanted to keep track of my birding adventures. I was haphazard with written accounts, and I wanted to learn more. Writing about birds makes me learn...and paint....and photograph. On top of that I've met so many nature lovers, bird lovers and remarkably creative people. I had to laugh when you mentioned others with boring bits of info. Haha...that's me! :-)
"But I really do appreciate every single person"?your quote-Again I have been forgotten and unanswered.
HURRAH! i was holding my breath. I have had the same doubts and sometimes just do not have the time to write and respond, and read all the wonderfl blogs; sometimes uninspired to write about my life - then i start again. I think its ok to take a break like this. the wonder is that the blogosphere is still there when you come back. a wonderful place of etheric friendships and amazing encouragement. I am so glad you are in for the long haul - i enjoy your blog. thanks
AfromTOx2...
You're right! I did accidentially skip replying to your comment last night. I read and posted it, along with several others, then lost track of who I was answering, I guess. I'm really sorry, and I certainly apologize, and though this is a poor example, I do care about each and every reader and always try and answer their comment. Just as I always answer your emails--slow, sometimes, but Lord knows at length when I do. You'll just have to owe me a whack the next time you have the chance. Really, A...I'm sorry.
A whack eh-you are daring -you know I can find you.wouldn't you be shocked if someone knocked on your door wacked you(big feather pillow would do) and drove away.(the trick is your comments should always be an even number or someone is missed)
I am off up north for the evening and afternoon to paint in some freezing rain.Ah the great outdoors.
Kelly…
Blogging has, for me, proven the best way of keeping a record, even cursorily, of my days. I don't know why I can't manage it on paper…but I can't. So the ghostly electronic digital world, etherial as a catbird's call, is my medium. And for whatever reasons, does work at keeping me going.
Plus, as you noted, you do meet some of the most interesting folks here—wonderful, talented, like-minded people who don't think it all weird to go out for a ramble during a snowstorm, or spend a day sitting on a log watching birds. They understand, and share, your priorities. "You crawled all over a hillside taking pictures of trillium? Hey, that's not weird—I did the same thing making photos of morels just the other day!" So even if it turns out we are a little weird, at least we come to understand we're members of a large genus—the tribe of weird—and can gather in groups and conventions, clusters and cliques, societies and clubs and coteries, and have all sorts of seminars and shindigs, meeting and outings, and be perfectly comfortable in our weird little place.
Now that, is cool! A real blogging perk.
Hey, I'll match you boring bits any time! I suspect we all edit those parts out because we don't want other people to fully realize how truly mundane our lives mostly are—in my case, just this side of watching paint dry.
Finally, I appreciate your help in misdirection, saying I was reporting from the banks of the Little Miami. Ha! That'll put 'em off the trail.
I never doubted the outcome of your rumination.
I too blog because it is an extension of my urge to write. I am NOT a professional writer, though I have written and published both prose and poetry.
Blogging keeps the writing knife edge honed.
But all your caveats also apply--especially inspiration and time.
I sometimes think I would blog even if I had no readers.
Lest there be any doubt, Grizz, I want to assure you that I did not mean to suggest that your riverbank life was a microcosm of the modern world. If it were such a microcosm, the modern world would be a far better place.
What I meant to suggest, however clumsily, was that I find greater appreciation for the larger world—perhaps I should say "life itself"—when I read about the day-to-day lives of specific individuals whom I admire, individuals like you and your Ladylove. I can only speculate about the larger world, most of which I will never see, but when you speak of life in a stone cottage on an Ohio riverbank, my heart perks up with understanding.
Though you are a humble man, to your credit, there is much that people like me can learn from "life and the seasons" from the perspective of "a modest stone cottage beside a small, sycamore-lined Ohio river." With respect to your blog and so many others, I agree entirely with your observation that "there is something about this ordinary minutiae that is oddly interesting and very enjoyable."
I hope this clarifies what I meant. This has been a great, thought-provoking post, made all the more entertaining by the fine comments of others.
Val…
Thank you. And you're right, blogs are no more demanding than you allow them to be. There's one I read which the fellow only posts to maybe two or three times a month. And another blog I follow where the blogger goes through spates—twenty-five posts in a one-per-day row…then two months blank, followed by another spate of thirty. Both blogs have been following their respective pattern for several years.
I'm not that bad—but I'm probably never going to be disciplined enough to manage a daily post, either, though I wish I could.
One thing I do know, though, is that too much is made of waiting for inspiration—especially inspiration from our lives that we can then deem worthy of sharing in a post. People are interested in other people, in their daily routines and thoughts; in the commonplace and ordinary. Write it and they'll read it—and enjoy doing so. And no, I don't practice what I preach—though I'm trying to improve—but I'm still right. So don't pay any attention to those doubts. Keep blogging, whenever the mood strikes, regardless of subject matter. Your readers, your blogland friends, will appreciate hearing from you.
AfromTO…
Yes, yes, I know it should always be an even number, just like I know how to NOT mess up almost all the things I DO mess up…your comment reply included. On the other hand, what you don't realize is how many times that even count business has saved my forgetful mind on these comments. I cultivate dozens of similar little habits in my life precisely because I can't depend on my scattered brain to pay attention. I promise you I will never intentionally fail to answer…but just keep in mind the goofy guy you're dealing with and make allowances.
Show up and whack me with a pillow? Must you really assault me in my doorway for an unintentional omission? Huh. Why I'd be forced to set Moon-the-Dog on you…though you'd have to allow me time to make her stop wagging and barking, and I'd maybe have to give her another glucosamine/chondroitin tablet in case her arthritis was bothering her.
I think a better "whack" would be to paint me into one of your landscapes—maybe as the backside of a one-eyed great gray owl perched in a jackpine snag, or a little lump of something indistinguishable beside a winding two-track which might appear nothing more than a pile of wet sand, but which you've pointed out to me as my personal representation in wolverine scat.
Anyway, have fun on your weekend painting campout, and be safe.
KGMom…
Funny you should put it thus—that you sometimes think you'd blog even if you had no readers. That's exactly what I figured I'd be doing when I began. I had no idea how blogging worked; no intention of telling everyone I knew that, hey, I've started a blog, please come and read it and leave a comment; and not the least interest on any sort of online self-promotion. Readers, if there were any, would have to find their way here on their own, and I really didn't think anyone would care to read.
Nope, I figured I'd be writing just for me…and if one or two readers did materialize out of the Great Unknown, that would be icing on the cake. I am humbled, grateful, and plain bowled over by the response. And this blog has given me back far, far more than I ever expected. A real daily blessing.
You're right, too, about writing…though it's repeated so often it's become a cliché—the more you write, the better you write. Regular stints keep the edge honed and the working parts flexible. In times past, working writers used to rely on letters as their main source of communication; now we have text messaging and email and Skype and cell phones, some of it writing, but not REAL writing. I think blogging is a good substitute, maybe the best we have.
Time and inspiration? Time can be a problem if you're truly busy instead of just looking for an excuse. But then there have been all those great novels written on kitchen tables and while taking the bus to work, or, as in the case of Conan Doyle, between patients. Almost always we can find time if we really want.
Inspiration is mostly a myth. When I was hot and heavy in the magazine article world, I could come up with working titles—ideas I could sell an editor—sufficient for a year in maybe a half-hour of thinking and scribbling 'em down. I never knew a minute of writer's block. What did sometimes take time was that opening paragraph. I have literally sat and stared at a blank sheet of paper for an hour before typing that first word. Once I could get the thing going, let off the brake and pull the bus out of the parking lot, I was on the way—but I've sweated blood more than once trying to make that start.
In blogging, I think a lot of us tend to fall into the trap of thinking we must have some great adventure or insight to relate. Sometimes I won't write because I don't have a photo to post. I'm coming around to the realization that both of these attitudes are wrong. I know I like reading other's writing on the everyday portions of their life—and I believe that's true for most of us. As to the photo business, what sort of pix would have been appropriate for this post? I didn't need a photo to do the piece (which seems to have struck a chord with readers) so an okay generic shot of the sunrise here on the river is okay.
Nope, we're usually or own biggest hurdle to blogging. And the funny part is, I think finally figuring that out is going to make it a lot easier.
I'm glad you'll be keeping on blogging, too. You're always readable. And just so you know, I've recently been afflicted with scrawling away at a few poems. Again. Must be the strange winter weather.
Long live the 'tribe of weird'! That's what I say. Such interesting comments this thoughtful post has provoked; I loved reading each and very one of them, and your own responses too.
Wonderful, that last reply to KGMom, by the way...
God, I do love blogging, and your post and the comments on it have reminded me why.
SW (long-time member of the 'tribe of weird')
George…
Well, I'm positively relieved to hear you're not looking for worldly insight into modern times within my daily and doubtless anachronistic fumblings. The only thing "hip" about me are those body joints which keeps my legs from attaching themselves to my armpits. By design I live in a rather insular corner, even in blogland. And I do so because I simply don't fit in anywhere else, and don't want to, even if I were capable.
I'm just naïve enough to believe that if we tore down Washington and all the world's governmental and power capitals, made every president and king and head-of-state dress in bluejeans and a tee-shirt, carted the whole sullen lot of 'em off to the riverbank and sat their whining fannies in comfortable folding chairs beside a river, with birds singing and frogs plonking, sun sparkling off the water, a fish swirling every now and them—cooked them some nice simple hearty camp food over a nearby fire, and left them there for the days or weeks or months needed for them to relax, crack a smile, begin to truly converse with one and other and hash out their differences…
Well…obviously the truly naïve fantasies of a foolish dreamer. Certainly not a man of wisdom and savvy insight. Simply what you get when you listen to a fellow who speaks to birds and squirrels and the occasional sycamore, and has, on more than one occasion when high water threatened, stood outside at 3:00 a.m. on a cold winter's night and between prayers to God, talked friend-to-friend with his river.
I'm glad you, too, find "something about this ordinary minutiae that is oddly interesting and very enjoyable," for I do, almost to the point of addiction. The commonplace of peoples lives is, to me, fascinating—and I don't know that I precisely understand why. But I believe it is the power behind all the great diarists, from Boswell to Pepys, and at least a hundred others I've enjoyed reading over the years. So, too, the best biographies—lots of little details on the individual's everyday lives, quirks, habits, the way they dressed, what they ate and read, hobbies, how they treated their dog—all is, to me anyway, as interesting as whatever it is was that made them worthy of a biography in the first place. I want to know as much about their humanness as their greatness.
Finally, I hope you always enjoy your visits to the riverbank. I sure enjoy having you drop around.
Solitary…
I'm so pleased you've enjoyed the post and comments. I have, too—very much. It's a perfect example of why I also love blogging. And just between you and me, is a fact I've also just managed to remind to myself.
We are surely a Tribe of the Weird. Perhaps we should embrace this fact and from here onward (with a humble literary nod to the Inklings) be known as the Weirdlings?
A question I've been pondering of late myself though I haven't totally thrown in the rag. I've lost impetus when it comes to blogging (how interesting can my everyday life be?) ... there was a time I blogged every day!
My husband was a bit of motivation when it came to blogging. He seemed to enjoy the posts ... in fact, I think I wrote FOR him. He always told me that even if no one else ever read them, I should keep doing them for us. I admit, since he died, I've been a little slack ... more than a little slack. Now you've come along and given me a little more pause for thought ... especially reading some of the comments. Maybe I need to give myself a kick in the butt and keep going. There is something about writing ... a healing something.
I too read a lot of blog posts on my iPod while I lounge in bed in the morning. It is SO frustrating commenting from that itty bitty key board with the added problem that they don't make it easy too comment from those things with the result, I rarely do get around to commenting these days. Not fair I know as comments are encouraging.
Cicero Sings…
Gosh, I hope you don't give up blogging because I read and enjoy your posts—from your walks to your trips down south, the dogs and baking. You live in a beautiful place and always have interesting posts and photos.
But, you need to do what's right for you. Just don't give it up because you think no one reads or cares. And nobody says you have to post every day.
As much as I love my iPad, I must also admit it just isn't the device for commenting on blogs. Reading blogs on one isn't bad, but commenting is difficult and frustrating and slow…and oh so easy to mess up. At least for me. I need a real keyboard; I'm not even sure the on-screen keypad on the iPad would be much of an improvement, though I haven't used one much, and have never tried blog commenting.
I enjoyed reading your post and reading all the comments and your answers to them. People blog for different reasons. I started my blog at the urging of my daughter to write my memories. My grandfather was born in Alsace then went to Paris but I never asked him much about his early life. My father was born in Istanbul then moved to Paris – the same happened. Now I wish there had been blogs where they could have written about their lives. My 3 grandsons are young, 5, 3 and 6 months old. When they are mature will I still be around, or will I still remember my youth in France? Lately I have been talking about my trips and I need to go back to family memories – I already wrote about my mother until she met my dad. My husband has a medical condition; it’s called MCI (Mild cognitive impairment.) He has no short memory – just remember the past well, but not what he did this morning. By my recounting our trips in details on my blog I hope that it helps him remember them and it does, somewhat. So these are my reasons – not really for me as writing in English is not that easy – I’d rather write in French. I don’t like my writing in English – it is too basic I feel. I usually gather my photographs and write around them, rather than try to write first. I did not know I would meet so many people on my blog – and also meet them in the flesh. Since I retired and live in a very conservative area and very judgmental (I live in Newt Gingrich’s county in Georgia) I have few friends – I am more liberal plus I have a problem – I have a French accent, which is not desirable around here (you remember last week or so Gingrich having an ad in South Carolina saying that Romney spoke French as something that was terrible….) My bloggy friends are online and I am so happy to have them. I enjoy coming to your blog, reading your text and looking at your beautiful photographs. I think you live in a lovely area and must be content – and that makes me happy. I am delighted that you will keep blogging.
Wow, this seems strangely similar to my latest post, which caused people to worry that I was saying I was about to quit – which I'm not. But, like you, I'm posting less frequently.
As long as I can find Great Blue Herons to photograph I'm not about to quit posting, and there seems to be quite a few around this season.
Old guys rule. Keep up the good work.
Loren…
Hey, I don't know if old guys rule—but we've learned to be sneaky and play dirty, and our bite is way worse than our bark. Personally, I can carry a grudge and connive with the best of 'em.
I suspect each of us eventually finds our individual pace for blogging—at least least the one we can best manage around the rest of our lives. You've been at it way longer than me, and I'm not surprised that you want to back off a notch on the pace. I'm also amazed at some of your fine photos. You have some real dandies. I'm lusting after a higher megapixel camera body, and have been for a couple of years. But every time I have the money saved, something comes along and I'm back to square one. One of these days…
Great blue herons in temporary short supply here due to the high water—but they'll be back in time.
Vagabonde…
Your reasons for blogging many, and all have much merit. So far as I'm concerned, any one is all the impetus you need to keep going. None of us know the number of our days, nor do we know the shape we'll be in even a month from now—could we still remember, still be able to read and write? No one can write your stories for you; the responsibility and pleasure are yours alone.
I've done some genealogy research on both sides of my family for maybe a decade. I want to get as much of it down as I can because there is no one left to ask about anything first-hand. The secondary sources are disappearing fast, too. And I want more than just dates and names and a few lines from a dusty of public record. One of these days, though, someone will want whatever I've collected and preserved. Just as they'll want your blog material. (By the way, I do hope you print off your pages into a hard copy…just in case.)
I love the South…but the South is the South, and Georgia is smack dab in the heart —and those folks can be tough on Yankees, Revenuers, and apparently, ladies with French accents. (Personally, I'd think it was cute and be glad to have you as a neighbor.) They are serious about their leanings—conservative or liberal—and not prone to do halfway. But at their heart they are good and honorable people, and will welcome you in and love you like family or shoot you dead on the street, depending on which they decide you deserve.
We bloggers are generally willing to give a bit of slack. I'm glad you like visiting here, and hope you come by and comment as often as you want. You're always welcome.
Oh, Grizz,
You had best stay put. It's all selfish, I admit... but I need you and the river and Moon and your Lady.
It is lovely to know you are traipsing around somewhere, taking pictures, gathering thoughts and yes... sitting quietly in your own reverie.
Go away, if you have to. Just don't go away from us.
Robin...
Don't worry, I have no plans to go anywhere for longer than a visit, or to slow down on my blog. I love where we live. The cottage needs lots of things done to it, which translates to money, but we'll plug along as we can. You can never say never about these things because tomorrow is unknown, but If I have my way, I'll be here maybe the rest of my life.
Regardless, we're friends and will remain so. Okay?
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