Someone recently asked me what my blog was about. I said it was “kind of like a journal” and instantly regretted it. She didn’t exactly roll her eyes, but her expression clearly said “Oh good lord. How boring.” Obviously, I need to come up with a new way to define what this blog is about.
It isn’t really about any one thing like raising children, or growing plants, or creating new recipes. What you read here is often inspired by a single comment or an observed behaviour. I take that one thing and let the words lead me wherever they may. Once I start to type, I find the blog post almost writing itself.
Well, that’s a bit disingenuous. I actually try to craft the sentences and paragraphs quite carefully, and I’m a bit of a stickler about grammar, so it’s not entirely a stream of consciousness. I often rearrange the thoughts, and the first paragraph nearly always ends up in the electronic trash, but one thought always leads to another.
My interests have always been somewhat eclectic and broad, and I deliberately chose General Studies at university. In fact, I loved it. It was everything I wanted university to be, even though it didn’t point directly towards a career. I had the same problem then that I have now in relation to this blog. I couldn’t justify it in a way that would satisfy people who were hoping I was doing something with a narrow focus that they could admire.
Some of the topics that find their way into this blog have to do with my family, my travels, occasional attempts at painting and photography, technology, dating, volunteering, and all the other aspects of the life of a retired college instructor that are fit to print. Once in a while I even divulge a deep, dark secret, but you have to pay close attention to catch them.
When I started this blog, I wanted to practise writing with a view to writing a book. I thought I wanted to write about the eight years I was a caregiver for my late husband. I have even kept boxes of notes and emails to remind me of the events and issues we had to contend with at the time. In turns out, though, that the longer I write this blog the less I want to write that book. The blog makes me happy, the memories make me sad, and the need to dredge up those feelings has long since passed.
I am looking at the present with more and more pleasure. It’s easier, it’s more varied, and it’s much more fun than the past. So, I suppose that is what this blog is about: noticing something interesting in the otherwise banal present moment.
Image source: Flickr