My Blog Manifesto

Why do I blog?

On October 17th, I finally hit the wall. I had been toughing it out alone for eight long weeks in my new surroundings, venturing at first timidly and later more boldly out of my apartment into the neighborhood, smiling at strangers, putting in inquiries at places I thought could use a volunteer, trying to find my niche in the congregation... and finding nothing. No friends, no foot in the door, no life, no purpose in this place. My long-distance relationship was disintegrating because I needed it and he didn't, and my friends at home were free when I was sleeping and working when I was free (and, less importantly, sleeping when I was working).

I had to have an outlet, and so my (computer) journal overflowed with observances of life and culture and equal parts wonderment and self-pity. But I stagnated. An outlet flows only one way and I desperately need input, lest I stew in my own juices and start to believe I'm right way too much of the time. I need friction to rub off the sharp corners. I need fresh new ideas to irrigate the dry soil.

And one day I sort of heaved my desperation heavenwards, unarticulated, and Meghan's words came floating back to me: "Have you heard of this thing called blogging? Lots of people are starting to do it. I think you have the personality for it." Something broke inside me-- my resistance, I suppose, or the notion that I could go it alone here in this new place. And five minutes later I was What, you too? and the feeling of relief was immediate. I still didn't know what to expect, but finally I could put out feelers, move around a bit, give instead of only taking, live again on a two-way street.

In the beginning I blogged because that was the place where someone might be listening. I blogged because my heart was overflowing and something had to catch the excess or it might spill on the ground and disappear. I blogged because I had to fill up long hours.

And then I blogged because some old friends were listening, and because even when I read my own words it was almost like a conversation--somehow the words didn't quite belong to me any more. And I blogged because I had to, somehow. I couldn't not blog. Blogging whispered "relax" when everything else screamed "stress!" And even after those long hours were filled with laughter and purpose, I blogged. I blogged because I was proud of the good thing I had begun, and admired the new people I had found, and didn't want to give up the new parts of me I'd discovered.

And somewhere along the line I realized a great inherent beauty of blogging. The layers are stripped away, and the delicate chance is offered: fill this blank page with your heart. Color it brown or yellow or mauve-- whatever; it's the words that bare your soul. Speaking heart to heart, words to words, souls reaching into the darkness and stumbling across rays of light. I used to think the purest way to someone's heart was by looking them deep in the eyes. Now I wonder if maybe I couldn't just skip the eyes altogether and look them direct in the soul.

I admire you all, my bold friends, with courage enough to reach out in vulnerability, to speak soul to soul without any accoutrements to hide behind. I love it that I can be uninhibited unabashed me around you. And I love it that I have friends whom I love fiercely and dearly, only some of whom I may ever have the chance to look directly in the eyes.