Many people don't get blogging but I do. To them, maintaining a blog might not be as hard up as a pet,digital or not; but what irks them is sensing a bind that chains them to regularly update. More so if you post your blog address as your msn nick and the whole world knows the click to your life. On another plane, the whole system of relating a day's work onto the world wide web seems irrationally banal and unnecessary. Having a blog does seem to initiate attention, but according to one's intentions, the subject of initiation might pivot.
I have enough friends with blogs to understand that not all, and in fact none of them are meant for vast public appreciation. They were not created in an attempt to hopefully one day advertise for or create political waves and call upon fame. Instead in all honesty, they were merely a source of, albeit virtual, space. As they rant and rave, boo and hiss, kiss and tell, they can count on the clean white text box of a new post page to do so. Writing a diary might appeal to one who writes fast, neat and with a readily available place to hide the black book. Moreover, mothers are becoming increasingly agile at sneaking around their kid's things and digging out the vices we try so hard to bury, making hiding a bitch. I once tried (dear me) to keep a diary but soon found out my mum reads every entry after I sleep. So she knew how many boys I was talking to and exactly which ones I had a crush on. Poor boys subject to my mum's disapproval without even showing their faces. Subsequently, I discovered the joy of blogging. No more hiding, no more late night writings, no more embarrassments. And with the easy insertion of pictures. Wow, magic. Out with the hard evidence, welcome to the family easy deletion! Sometimes when my friends and I get too caught up with work, we rely vaguely on our blogs to reveal the base picture of what we've been missing without each other. And then when we realize that those entries are becoming gibberish, we know it is a sign for us to catch up urgently. Such are the joys of blogs.
I have enough friends with blogs to understand that not all, and in fact none of them are meant for vast public appreciation. They were not created in an attempt to hopefully one day advertise for or create political waves and call upon fame. Instead in all honesty, they were merely a source of, albeit virtual, space. As they rant and rave, boo and hiss, kiss and tell, they can count on the clean white text box of a new post page to do so. Writing a diary might appeal to one who writes fast, neat and with a readily available place to hide the black book. Moreover, mothers are becoming increasingly agile at sneaking around their kid's things and digging out the vices we try so hard to bury, making hiding a bitch. I once tried (dear me) to keep a diary but soon found out my mum reads every entry after I sleep. So she knew how many boys I was talking to and exactly which ones I had a crush on. Poor boys subject to my mum's disapproval without even showing their faces. Subsequently, I discovered the joy of blogging. No more hiding, no more late night writings, no more embarrassments. And with the easy insertion of pictures. Wow, magic. Out with the hard evidence, welcome to the family easy deletion! Sometimes when my friends and I get too caught up with work, we rely vaguely on our blogs to reveal the base picture of what we've been missing without each other. And then when we realize that those entries are becoming gibberish, we know it is a sign for us to catch up urgently. Such are the joys of blogs.
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