Sunday, January 23, 2011

How Meta Is It To Blog About Blogs?

I have recently been on hiatus from blogging for various reasons, but tonight putting the proverbial pen to paper seems apt.  While I may not be ready to return to my prose, I was thinking about my own little niche in the electronic sphere.  How meta is it to blog about blogs?  I have always done a mental eye roll when reading fiction and the protagonist is a writer by profession.  Authors like King, Irving and Vonnegut have elevated their narcissistic to a level of masturbation.   "Write what you know", has just earned its cliche status.

Still, the need to decide what I am doing here has taken hold of my active thoughts.  Originally I started my blog to give my self a space to work on my writing.  A skill that lays dormant will soon wither and fall away.  My daily interaction with the written word is laid down medical jargon, cut to the bone to be concise and declarative.  No room to describe the tone of the air, the tilt of a head as the question is asked, or the lithe movement used to cross a room.  With school behind me, if not to blog, my textual competency would need not to be more sophisticated than the ability to make smiley faces and hearts via text message.

"A Girl and Her Blog" is acutely personal to me; sharing it is akin to intimacy.  As I fill the space with my words, my reader can judge me, love me, or revile me.  I am opening myself up for it all.  While some of my posts are silly or cathartic, most are serious expressions of my creativity.  Reflective and probative of self or prose hammered out over months, all are elemental to my core.  Sharing not only allows me to practice my art but allows me to lay bare my character.

While I am hesitant as a cat with strangers to starts regular posts again, it feels so nice to be back amid my words.  I miss the way I look at the world, searching for the next stroke of inspiration to quiver inside me.  I miss the way I stop before speaking to search for the perfect turn of phrase.  I miss the way it changes how I read books, looking at technique and appreciating the subtle art.  I miss the way my fingers itch to tap out all the buzz inside my head.  I miss the way I get to tell you, my reader, just who I am.