don't know what I want but I know how to get it

by mg at 12:56 AM on June 21, 2002

So, Melly had this kind of a sort of a rant about blogging. She said, “Let me tell you, blogging is as necessary to you as a hole in the head.” And she is right. I think many people feel that way. I know I do.

Still, I do it every day. I can’t get away from it. I’ve quit numerous times, threatened to quit many more, and just disappeared for days on end without an explanation. But I always come back.

Sometimes I think this is about self-expression, a way to get all of the things that rattle around in my brain out. To let those things loose, and like a fart in the wind, to diffuse all the pain and confusion inside me with all the rest of the emotions in the world, the joy and happiness, so that the bad doesn’t hurt me so much anymore. If you’ve ever kept a journal, and I’m guessing a lot of you do, I’m sure you found things don’t work that way at all.

So, then I’ll think I do this because I want to share something of myself, the good parts, with the world. I know I’ve got something to say, something big inside me that needs to be let out, that the world will be better for knowing. And if I keep at this long enough, it will come out, will make the world a better place. Or, at least a more amusing, and entertaining place. I honestly believe I do that sometimes, that you are amused and entertained. But sometimes, I still yearn for that big world altering word to stream from me, through my fingers, into the keyboard, through the modem lines, and to your eyes, your brain, your soul.

That, obviously, hasn’t happened yet. It may never happen, so, I think of other reasons why I do this. And more often that not recently, my answer to that question is because I’ve started something here. It isn’t just me anymore, if I leave, I take down nearly 30 other authors (as infrequently as some of them contribute), and thousands of readers.

So then, I do this to be part of a community.

Is that right?

That can’t be right.

And I think Melly agrees. I say think, because I don’t want to put words in her mouth. This is merely my interpretation of what she said. What she actually says is, “It comes down to, do you want to express yourself, or do you want to make everything cheap and meaningless by forging false friendships in order to think what you write is meaningful?”

My answer is no. Resoundingly, no. I want to express myself. This isn’t about making friends. None of you (with a few rare exceptions) are my friend. I read a number of journals myself. Those people, as much as I may know about their lives, maybe even more than I know about some of my dearest, oldest friend’s lives, you people are still strangers.

I may wish we were friends, and we may eventually become friends. We might start with an email, then spend hours chatting online, maybe get together for drinks, and finally crash on each other’s couch for a night on our way across country.

But when it comes down to it, me reading you and you reading me is about as close to a real conversation as flipping through the October 1997 issue of Reader’s Digest while waiting for a dentist’s appointment. You are as much my friend as Ross, Chandler and Rachel are my friends.

Now, maybe I’m doing this blogging thing all wrong. Maybe some of you have made lasting relationships solely based on reading and commenting each other’s site. I say that’s total bullshit. But I also say God is bullshit, celebrity is bullshit, and money is bullshit. Love is bullshit, too. So, maybe I’m just a cynical fuck. I doubt it, though.

Some of you will likely hate me for what I’m saying, and the point is that I don’t care. I don’t care if you love me, hate me, or stop by 20 times a day. Unless… unless, maybe you could drop me an email. Or catch me on aim. Best still, you can invite me for drinks at the local pub in your town during my drive to New Mexico in July. We aren’t friends now, but we could be.