So I MAY be jacked up on cold brew with condensed milk (Unngh) but bear with me here.
I have had blogs in one form or another since 2005, and I have enjoyed reading other people’s blogs for as long. Sometimes people speak of the great blog death, and having been in the game during the years between ´06 and´12, a part of me agrees. Because dang, I had so much fun! Writing myself (resulting in real life friends, that win?!) and reading so many great ones. Men and women told stories of their lives, embroidered tales with twists and turns that kept me on the edge of my seat for a week waiting for the next chapter. There was a true sense of getting to know someone, through their words and speech, without having any idea of who they were IRL. People with messages they wanted to throw out into the world and see who responds. Communities made. Link love and silly awards. Less polished surfaces and more creative joy.
This morning I tried finding a bunch of my old favourites again that I know have thrown in the towel, but most of them have gone into the obscurity of the internet. The few I could reach being dead end pages echoing words written in 2010, 2011, 2012.
I don’t want to be a reactionary person, but I think I am in this case. I look back at the past blogging times with rosy, glittery glasses and reminisce about how it was before everything got so heavily saturated by consumerism and affiliate links, and the sense that every blog should be a business.
I don’t mind affiliate links, as long as their context is part of some kind of storytelling. There’s obviously a market for short paragraphed statements, flashy pictures of happy people brunching and ”You can find my dress here!”, but I just don’t get it.
I understand that time moves on, that people find other things to do with their time when life gets more complicated, and that social media is just so much easier to access and make a little time for, here and there. The waning engagement and lessening of traffic may discourage bloggers from putting in time and effort into something that just isn’t gaining the traction that it did initially, and I get that. It doesn’t make me miss the old times any less, though.
Stubborn as I am, I’ve always been a teensy meensy blogger. People who are like ”In the beginning, I ONLY had 100 visitors a day on my blog!”. That’s my high point, man. In 2015. I don’t appeal to the general public, my wording makes my posts unsearchable and my topics only affect the few. And that’s fine with me. Writing and reading blogs is the next best thing of the internet, a close second to information searching and you know, life stuff like paying bills and communicating with friends. Without blogs, socially, there would only be the regular social media. Fast media, made to capture you for pin pricks of endorphin rushes as you scroll through endless feeds of wordless images or statements pressed into short sentences because no one cares to read text anymore*.
It’s just not for me. I’m not a perfect blog-wizard with a super regular posting schedule nor do I always perform my absolute best, but I still have the joy of blogging with me.
I don’t really know what I’m trying to say with this post, but I’m gonna let it out there anyway. Maybe my point is just that I won’t give up, because I love it. The dorkiness of it all. Writing for writing’s sake, storytelling because storytelling is awesome. Reading because taking part of other people’s stories is great. I shout into the fancy winds that I want more of the regular people’s lives, and if you know someone who has a great blog, or if you do yourself, tell me. I want it all, to sift through and find new favourites apart from the few I have today.
Because blogging is great, and I want more people to do it.
*The worst of all the blogging tips that pop up now and then.