When blogging feels like a song by The Carpenters
Talking to myself and feeling old. Sometimes, I’d like to quit; nothing ever seems to fit.
Doesn’t blogging feel like Rainy Days and Mondays at times?
NY Times said that around 95% of blogs get abandoned. Wow, just wow.
I vowed to myself that I would never allow my other blog, The Background Story, to go that way. It would be part of the 5%! It would be among the last ones standing!
But now that I’m seven months into blogging, I’m not sure if I still have the same level of enthusiasm I had back then. Oh, don’t get me wrong — I’m not yet at the quitting stage, and I don’t think my co-bloggers C, A and M would let me off that easily. It’s just that I already had a taste of bitter reality, and it’s something that’s just a little bit too hard to swallow.
I started blogging with lofty dreams for my other blog. Dream big, they said. It would be fun, they said. Of course, I’ve lived long enough in this world to know that ‘dream big’ is always accompanied by ‘work hard.’ I was prepared to toil and get stuff done. I really thought I knew what I was getting into.
Blogging, it turns out, requires much more work than I expected. The surprising thing (at least, for me) is that my efforts have gone mostly to networking, not writing content. Because I love to write, coming up with entries is something that I enjoy doing. Though I work hard at it, writing isn’t something that feels like a job.
You know what feels like a job? Networking, marketing, plugging, advertising. It’s one thing to write something, but it’s another thing to get an audience for it. And that’s what’s so hard to do. So, so hard. At times, it feels like my efforts have paid off, but my other blog, for the most part, is averaging at 40+ unique visitors a day (and 30 of them are family and friends, I’m willing to bet).
At first, I tried to convince myself that I’m writing for myself, that I don’t need people to read what I have to say. After a while, I said “Screw that bullshit.” I’m a lot of things but not a hypocrite (and apparently, not much of a marketer, either). If I wanted to write for myself, I could always jot my thoughts down in a diary, or keep a private blog somewhere else online.
I blog because I feel like I have something to share. I blog because I want people to somehow benefit from what I know (even though I don’t know much). I blog because I’m interested in reading what people have to say, too. I blog because I want interaction within a community.
The sad thing is that this entry about wanting to be read will go largely unread. The sadder thing is that I’m not the only one. I’m just one of the millions of bloggers out there, desperately finding a relevant spot in the vast expanse that is the Internet.
Yet, I’m still determined to keep my other blog a part of the 5%. Am I crazy to carry on with my futile attempts? Perhaps. But that’s the beauty of working for your dreams. Once you start, it’s not that easy to stop.
So, I guess, since I’m not going to quit blogging …
Funny but it seems that it’s the only thing to do: Run and find the one who loves me The Background Story.
Like this:
Portrait 94, revised
I was told by a family member that I rushed this one, so I went back and spent some more time on it this evening. Here are the original, plus the revised version for comparison. Sorry for rushing you, Lex!
Lex, original sketch.
Lex, revised (pencil, 1 15/16" x 2 3/8")
Time for the Birthday Blues? Not This Year!
It’s almost February. Time for the birthday blues!
When I was a kid, I got really excited for my birthday. I was already looking forward to February as early as December.
I don’t know at what point it all changed. I think it started when I turned 20. I know now that 20 is still very young, but it didn’t seem to be that way back then. Anyway, everything went downhill from there.
Last year, I even ran away from birthday. I went on a trail-trekking, mountan-climbing, cave-spelunking out-of-town trip so that I didn’t have to face my family’s and friends’ greetings. I just didn’t want to be reminded, okay? Besides, I had mad fun pretending to be not 30, and I was also concentrating on not getting myself killed.
Talk about holding on for dear life!
But this year, I want it to be different. I want to face my birthday head-on. I want to celebrate the fact that given a thousand ways to die, I managed to beat the odds and I’m still here. Every year added to my age is a testament to my sheer, dumb luck. Because, really, not everyone is lucky enough to be old.
I’ll throw a grand fucking party the day I turn 50.
