The pressures of blogging

I know that we all say that we blog for ourselves. Okay, maybe not all of us, but those of us not amazing writers who have found a way to make a living doing what the rest of us call a "hobby" for lack of a better term. But I think that a little piece of all of us wish for more readers, more comments, more attention. Or maybe that is just me.

I find myself reading blogs and thinking, surely their life isn't all that more exciting than mine, they can just convey it better, with more panache, more excitement, more humor...

Tangent.. why does blogger spell check not recognize the words blogging, blog or blogger?

Resume post...

I have always been a "writer" and I use that term loosely. But when my writing is in the great big blogosphere next to the likes of people who have things published, well it seems flat, boring, without meaning of sorts. Yes, I do blog to flush out the thoughts in my head and to share with family and friends the little things we might forget to mention in the occasional phone call. But a part of me would like to be a better writer, to amuse, to entertain, to enlighten others with my words.

Perhaps I should commission famous bloggers to tell my stories, a la the new Geico commercials. Perhaps Heather A. could add her twist to my current intestinal woes such as Charro adds her flair to a "normal" person's insurance story. Or Amy could recount in her funny mommy comic way the story of how Boo Bear (formally known as The Girl) is learning to crawl and insists on moving to her stomach every time I sit her down, only to scream in protest at the fact that her stomach. is. touching. the. ground. my. gosh. get. me. up. now. woman. Or the other Heather could regale a story of my childhood with insight and profound discovery such that others will not merely laugh, but ponder memories of their own.

Or perhaps I should just continue to write and be very content in the fact that members of my family learn things about me that I cannot convey in real life to them and that I have some real life (as opposed to my very real life e-friends) friends that know me for who I really am. And love me anyways -- Despite my inability to fully convey my thoughts on this keyboard, partially due to the fact that I think way faster than fingers' capacity to hit the buttons needed to convey such messages. And perhaps I should quit with the wanting to be liked and fit in with everybody and let go of the childhood fantasy that everyone likes everyone. I don't like everyone and everyone doesn't have to like me. But would you, please.

This post obviously lets out of the bag some of my inner issues. Oh, well. Maybe some blogger will write a book about me... or perhaps you should just skip this post and go look at the blue pictures below.