I don’t suppose I need a point

I’m just as much a blog reader as I am a blogger. And while I read others’ blogs, I subconsciously search for “the point”. Blogs about what you fed your cat today aren’t terribly engrossing, though they are fairly telling.

And I hold off on blogging until I have something that I would consider even slightly significant; to myself, if no one else.

Quite frankly there are tons of blogs (if blogs can be weighed) that never escape my skull. Those are the ones written while I travel between point A and point B, even if point A and point B are mental places, not physical ones. These blogs, I suppose are for me alone. Must be, since I can’t remember them when I sit at the keyboard.

But I think the allure of blogging is the knowledge (or hope) that someone, somewhere, might even actually read your blog. And since I know that there are at least a handful of eyes other than mine that read these words, I try desperately not to disappoint them. Like I’m the sole contributor to my own magazine and I don’t want to let my subscribers down.

And that is likely why I search so feverishly for the point, since I am so keenly aware when it is lacking. Like now.

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