The Big Bad Blogosphere

Okay, so once again my husband has abandoned me for a business trip (he's oh-so-important, you know) and here I am - left to my own devices. I'm happy to report that I haven't even turned on the television (proof that my husband it to blame for all the hours we waste in front of the TV), but I’ve found another way to waste time this evening...by prowling through the blogosphere. And over the last three hours (Yikes! Has it really been three hours?), I've realized a couple things:

1) There are a lot of clever writers out there. Seriously from the mommy-bloggers to the author-bloggers to the city-chic-bloggers to the travel-bloggers... there are way too many people out there with a lot of cool stuff to say. A girl could get lost in there. So, I encourage you to dive in too. Seriously, if you people are wasting as much time in the blogosphere as I am, I won’t feel quite so gulity about my own time-wasting. Oh wait, you’re already wasting your time here with me…um, thanks for that…yeah, you don’t need to check out the other clever people. They’re not nearly as cool as me, um, I promise.

2) In my exploration of the blogosphere, I’m both encouraged and intimidated. Encouraged by the fact that blogs get a lot of attention these days, so even if I’m never actually paid for my ramblings, it’s still cool to think that my writing is out there. And just like I might stumble upon an old friend from high school’s blog, she too might stumble onto mine. Or that old boyfriend might even see it and think “Gee, her life turned out pretty good despite the fact that I broke her heart into a million pieces,” or maybe the girls I tried so hard to impress in college will read it and think “I always thought that geeky chick had potential!” Who knows? But the mystery of it all is pretty exciting…and terribly intimidating. I mean, what the hell am I doing? There is so much good writing out there…what makes me think I have anything important to say? (Ahem, I meant to say…I’m very important...um, this is by far the coolest blog in the blogosphere. You’ve come to the right place, I promise.)

On a side note, this evening I have also discovered that Roger’s absence is the perfect excuse to eat random items from the pantry for dinner. So far I have consumed hummus, jalapenos, carrots, peanut butter, and oreos. (Though I explicitly asked Roger to hide the peanut butter before he went out of town, but alas, he failed miserably. He must have thought I was joking... I wasn’t.) So here I am, sitting at my laptop and listening to Madonna’s Something to Remember album (on repeat) while trying to figure out how I feel about all the blogging going on in the world…

I’m not exactly sure. I still think blogging is a bit narcissistic, but obviously, I’m a fan. I’ve always loved journals and diaries and scrapbooks, and surely blogging is the ultimate way to document experiences. But are my experiences (and navel contemplations) worth documenting? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way, I’m not fishing for encouragement (though comments are always appreciated and, okay, worshipped).

I definitely dig all the blogging going on in the world and I’m happy to be a blogger myself, but I have a feeling one day I’ll look back at all my drivel and shake my head with an expression that already annoys me and say, “Oh, how silly I was then! How little I knew about life!”

Can I please reach into the future and smack this version of myself? I mean, I know she knows more than I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like her. And yet, she’ll hold this damn blog over my head as proof that I was selfish and clueless and ate far too much peanut butter.

Then again, I’m sure there’s a way to delete all this crap when I’m ready.

But come on, we both know I’m far too narcissistic for that.