I told Inskidee that I was going to do it, and there I did it. You were probably thought this was going to be an instructional lesson about sloths and their reproduction. Or you might have thought that I was going to make a clever reference to some sort of anime.
Well, I’m not doing either.
I’m writing about blogging.
I’m nowhere near the master of this type of post. When Irina, Karandi or anyone else shares their opinions about blogging, it feels like a narrative born out of some earned inner reflection. The posts come with a sense of grace and style that makes me pause for a moment and nod. As the great bard said, “They just laid some wisdom on my ass.”
My thoughts have been neither eloquent nor have they been enlightening. No. Every time I’ve thought about writing this post, every sentence in my head just felt like I was begging, “Please. Please love me.”
Part of this is because I’m a neurotic mess, and part of it is because I feel like I haven’t earned the right for introspection. I’ve been doing this months. They’ve been at it for years.
I’m getting ahead of myself though. A few years ago, someone described me as having a fun think-as-you-write prose with some shaky ideas. It’s not something I took as an insult. I do have some shaky ideas, and sometimes I have some good ideas and have trouble explaining them.
Either way, I like to think of my writing as pretentious nonsense. I don’t have any real credentials to write the stuff I do. I don’t have the breadth of knowledge that others do. I’m pretty much just writing what I see and hoping that it’s interesting enough for people to read it.
Sometimes it is. I mean I’ve made four legit roundups, and that is awesome.
The thing is I have zero sense if it’s any good.
Way back when I would gauge how good a post was by the number of comments. If I scored two or three, I was good. If I got five or six, well that was golden.
Now I’m long past the heyday that I found myself in back in 2008 when I got hundreds of visits. Now I’m happy if I crack 40.
Here’s the thing, I’m not complaining. I’m grateful that anyone wants to read what I’ve written.
I just don’t know how to get people to comment. I don’t know if I’m just not writing anything interesting enough, or if I’m writing too long. Am I not picking good enough subjects?
All of that said, there is another side of me that wonders if I would do anything else. I might write pretentious nonsense, but I like writing pretentious nonsense. I restarted this blog because I wanted to write long pieces about shows that I wanted to revisit. They’re not brilliant, but they are fun to think about.
So here I am. I just crossed 210 posts — a minuscule number, really — with the ultimate conundrum. Am I doing something wrong? Should I try to fix it? Would I even know how?
The answer is, “I don’t know.”
And that is what sloths look like when they’re mating.
Anyways, thanks for reading.