The One In Which I Write A Rambling Post That Did a Complete 180 Halfway Through

Bless me readers for I have sinned. It’s been 17 days since my last blog post. For this an any other sins I may have committed I am truly sorry. If I say an Act of Contrition will you absolve me?

Honest to God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. I really have no excuse other than I’ve been busy. And lazy.

Mostly lazy.

But I’m feeling inspired today. Last night my girlfriend and I went to see the amazing Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess, read from her new book Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) here in Los Angeles.

At the risk of sounding like a giddy fan girl, she was awesome! She was irreverent, hilarious and extremely generous, taking questions from fans and signing a gagillion books while taking pictures with anyone who asked. We waited in line for about 90 minutes and it was worth the wait.

I’m about halfway through and I simultaneously can’t wait to finish it and am trying to savor it.

Reading her book reminds me what I love about blogging—it’s about men and women laying out their vulnerabilities for everyone to sort through, sharing the blood and guts of life. The feeling of “Oh, I’m not alone after all. There are others like me.” It’s not about judgement; it’s about community. That’s powerful.

There’s a lot of discussion online about whether or not personal blogs are dying. So-called experts say that in order to be successful, bloggers need to have a niche, and I believe too many bloggers buy into that, littering their blogs with reviews and giveaways and sponsored content. Others have put up pretty facades that hide their imperfections and failures because, well, I don’t know why. Fear? Probably.

I just read an article in Entertainment Weekly where Aaron Sorkin, talking about the difference between writing for movies and writing for television, says that TV is “all middle.” In other words, it’s the details, the ongoing story that keeps viewers interested.

It’s the same with personal blogs for me. It’s the quiet moments, the small details, the highs and the lows that we all go through in life that pull me in, keep me riveted and bring me back. It’s about having the courage share our stories—warts and all—with honesty and integrity.

This post went in a completely different direction than I originally intended when I started writing today. I was going to write a happy, funny post about the reading last night, but watching Jenny put it all out there, and have people thank her for that, made me think about what I’m doing in this space. Or not doing.

I’ve had trouble finding my words lately and it’s because of fear. Certain areas of my life feel like a big mess right now and it’s hard for me to share that. I don’t like to admit that I don’t have it all figured out, that I’m as far from figured out as you can get. But if I expect honesty and integrity from others, aren’t I a hypocrite if I don’t reciprocate?

 

 

 

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