Time to clean house and address those dust bunnies that have been gathering at my feet when I try to read all of my favorite blogs.
For a few weeks I've been thinking about my little 'ol place here in the great blogosphere (I know, totally NOT an original thought, but it's mine, so oh well). I've been thinking about my writing, what I like about it, what I don't. I've been thinking about my reading, what I like about it, what I don't. I've been thinking about how much time I should spend doing my "hobby," and how much time I should truly devote to folding laundry (which would be so much easier with an Electrolux set . . . just sayin').
Basically, I've been doing a lot of thinking.
What I've come up with is this.
None of us are original.
None of us are unique.
None of us have all the answers.
There, I said it. I learned a long time ago that it is nearly impossible to have an original thought when it comes to writing about mothering. What? It is.
No matter what story we tell, there is and always will be someone else who has "been there, done that," or who had it ten times worse or better than we did. It's a fact. Don't believe me? Try writing about potty training or sleep issues and see how many people tell you their own stories.
That being said, I think it is okay. Yes, it is okay. All of it. All of the shared experiences are what bind us together, give us common ground, link our arms in a chain of solidarity that represents the struggle of parenting.
And it isn't a bad thing. How could it be a bad thing?
If written well, I will read ten thousand posts about potty training. Why? Because it is entertaining and it binds us together in a shared experience (be it the inferno of potty training, or something else). And who cares? Why all this anger and blog bashing over things like originality and copying and names?
I remember a long time ago reading a post that was basically the same thing I'd written the day before. I thought, "Hm, that's weird - I just wrote that! How could it be that she wrote that too?"
And then I pulled my head out of la-la land and realized that what I'd written was neither a) original or b) unique.
Guess what? That was fine. It was fine because that is not why I blog.
I blog to tell my stories. I blog to scratch my writing bug. I blog to make a written record for my family. I blog to read about other people who may or may not be going through something similar. I blog to learn. I blog to belong to something that brings me great joy and a sense of belonging to another kind of community. I blog in hopes of someday being a real writer. I blog to laugh. I blog to cry. I blog for you and I blog for me.
Do I like that I get a check from BlogHer on occasion? Of course.
Do I care that there is an ad on my sidebar? Not really.
Do I read all kinds of posts where I've been there and done that? Yes, and I'm fine with it.
Have I ever posted on a topic that someone else has addressed? It would be stupid to think that I hadn't.
And it's fine, all of it. Because that is why I blog.
Why do you blog?
*stay tuned tomorrow for a unoriginal and totally not unique post about sleep issues!