Blog Jogger

For me, blogging has become the new walk in the park, as I ambulate through my thoughts to sort out a heading to write about.

In fact I've been blogging for 4 days now (naturally stopping to eat, shower and sleep), but 4 days is the sum total of my blogging career, and already my family, comprising hubby and cat, have become quite accustomed to me hunkered over my keyboard, venting this or that stream of thought through my flying fingers. Happily they leave me to it. Mostly.

I have often wanted to keep a diary.

I have two distinct problems with actual diary-keeping.

Diaries, by their very nature, are books with real sheets of paper in them that require real penmanship to make a mark on them. After many years of typing on keyboards, I can't manually write a sentence onto a sheet of paper without making a complete dogs breakfast of the page. My manual writing skills are woeful, ergo, though I have bought a couple of diaries over time with the express intention of exploring the highways and by-ways that make up my mind on a frequent basis (stored in the one place, ie. the diary), I haven't got much beyond Week 1, or even Day 1, because, well, I think - it's not just the words - but good presentation is a big part of finding pleasure in the writing experience, and I have trouble making my handwriting readable even if I use a pencil.

In fact I wouldn't be surprised that the more popular blog web sites will be those that pay close attention to the outward appearance of blogs, in their finished forms. We bloggers want to look good (well, don't we?).

Diaries are also traditionally full of deep, dark and furtive secrets. And it's not a lack of secrets why my life has been diary-free. I'm not sure that I would commit my secrets to paper anyway. Nor to screen, come to that. But were I to do so, and after sweating, armed with a pen, over a page for some hours, while attempting to make my scrawly handwriting legible, and failing miserably ~ as if that's not bad enough, given that the diary is loaded down with secrets, who but me will get to read it?

Please tell me the point of writing something down ~ not in the dramatic spirit of exorcising demons from the mind and then ritualistically ripping the paper to shreds afterwards ~ but from the viewpoint of keeping those writings locked away sometimes for years (and diaries often have those dinky little ornate keys to warn of secrets being kept therein, do they not?) which no-one else will read, at least until the mortal coil has been shuffled off.

So read away. There may not be secrets in my blog but, you will find me there.