What does blogging do for you?
Submitted by Madeleine Rose.
You know, I honestly don't know anymore. I think there was a time when I was really able to write straight from my heart and soul and just let it all flow out onto the screen, but even now looking back I wonder if I was really being as open as I thought I was, or intended to be. While I wouldn't really call myself a writer by any means, I think if one wants to write well, following certain concepts and rules is unavoidable. One of those is know your audience.
What I've noticed is that once you start to think about your audience and who might be reading and interpreting what you write, your writing changes. And while "writers" and people who write about good blogging will tell you that's exactly what you want to do, it necessarily leads to controlling the content of your compositions. But to what extent?
Where do you draw the line? Even now as I write this I find myself taking pause to reflect on the few words already set and wondering if they convey they ideas I'm trying to put forth (if indeed there are any at all) and whether it will be interpreted correctly or not. And should I really worry about that, or should I trust the people who read it? I can tell you history has made it clear to me that interpretation varies widely, sometimes to the extent of being the complete opposite of the original intent.
I think if you're writing prose or poetry that's a good thing. You put something out there, a vision, a voice and some part of the world reads it and each has their own adaptation of your words and story, creating a complex understanding (or misunderstanding as it were) of an original idea. In fact, I'm pretty certain that's how we get a thousand religions from some original cave person pointing to the sky and trying to express puzzlement at the nature of things. Sometimes, though...we convey an idea so clear that the general understanding is exceptional, usually using simplistic imagery that's hopefully unmistakable, or more likely no matter what image you perceive, the meaning is the same. She shakes like the last leaf on a dying tree...from Frank Miller. Maybe we all picture a different leaf, a different she and some other tree but the understanding evoked is nonetheless the same. I think.
Blogs aren't quite the same though, are they? Unless you write stories or poetry or informational pieces or blather like I'm writing now, there's a personal connection to the writing, like an open diary, a story you want to share a little and a way to connect with people who feel the same...people who understand. Someone once questioned my choice of venues when writing about the personal things I've endured the past few years. I don't think I said much at the time because the person he told supported the point of view to some degree, or at least I understood them to but it really bothered me and I couldn't quite put my finger on why. I wonder if it's because I expected them to understand, that I believed them to have the same interpretation of why we blog in the first place. Maybe they did and were just afraid. Maybe I was just angry and felt like I had a right to tell my story whenever, wherever and however I chose. It's so hard to understand a feeling after it's passed.
Even now after those last few sentences I'm thinking about deleting this like so many other posts I've written and slain, my own brutal censor. But I'm not going to. I think. There's no blame in it, no call for action or reaction. It's simply my own inner workings, trying to figure out what blogging can do for me anymore. I had a thought while I was writing that but it was fleeting and I lost the flow of it. The gist was this, though: You should take care not to intentionally hurt people you know to be reading your words. But if you can't write openly and trust the people close enough to be a part of your real life to read and understand, to interpret without condemning, to question openly when they don't understand, then what's the point of writing?
I'm honestly starting to worry that in our mad rush of life, in the hustle and bustle of living in this age of massive internets and intranets and telecommunications lines, we're losing the simplest of human connections:
The ability to openly communicate.
*points to the sky, puzzled about the nature of things*
It's damned hard not to love Atlanta.
I was watching a movie when the room turned green, then bright yellow then orange. At first I thought it was the ambilight on my TV. LOL Sometimes we forget nature can outdo all our genius, you know?
My allergies are killing me today and I generally just don't feel well, but it's one of those strange weather days here where white skies turn grey and black then perfectly blue so I felt like going outside for a bit and taking a few macro shots. And I was bored. lol I really wish I had something more like a 100mm instead of 50, especially when trying to shoot things that tend to fly directly at your face when you get too close. Not that I blame them...lol.
Anyway, nothing special, just some tiny things.
Share a song you listened to in 6th grade.
Wow, some things never change. :D
I can't believe this was 6th grade. Not like I was impressionable back then or anything. LOL
Interesting(?) trivia:
Tipper Gore tried like hell to get this banned from the radio and TV because of the sexual themes.
Phil Hartman was the voice of Waldo.
The bikini-clad teacher/stripper was Janet Jones, the eventual Mrs. Wayne Gretzsky. I am certain I hated Wayne for this at some point in my life. :D
I have to keep dumbasses from running me over between now and then. Someone rear-ended me AGAIN. This would be the second time this month. LOL
And it's not like I'm racing to a stop and sliding in at the last second or anything! I was just stopped at the light and BAM! And as has become my custom in these things (since you know, it's like a regular thing) is to get out, survey the odd lack of damage, shake my head and get back in my car. This one actually hit me hard enough to knock things off my dash.
My life is so freaking strange some times.
My trips are booked. :-) WOOOHOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And it only took 3 hours. And a Platinum Visa card. LOL
Eh, C'est la vie. You only live once, and how many people truly live?
You know those movies where the smoochy couple get smoochier by the second and they gaze into eachother's eyes and she says, Take me to Paris!" and the next thing you know it's a day later and they're in Paris and smooching under some Parisian thing looking all...well, like people who actually managed to get from point A to point B where point B is some place in France?
Well, what the fuck ever. If knowing is half the battle than getting there is the War of the Worlds. LOL
And it's not like I'm trying to say...book an underground railroad trip from Atlanta to Venus with an overnight stay in Hell or anything. You know? It's a simple plan:
- Get the hell out of Atlanta
- Land in Paris, or a reasonable facimile thereof
- Stay there, see stuff, take photos, eat food, drink wine, tour things
- Take a really freaking fast train under the channel to London
- Stay there, see stuff, take photos, eat food, drink a pint, tour things
- Take a really freaking fast train under the channel to Paris
- Repeat step 3
- Fly back
I don't know...this so does not sound like that much to ask.
I think the worst part is that I'm totally capable of handling doing this. I just get so frustrated dealing with customer service agents and travel adivsors who know less about their site than I do so I get to a point where I'll just pay whatever to get it done and not have to deal with the, anymore. Maybe I'm just frustrated in general. lol
I just want to see Paris.
Le sigh.
What's making you smile today?
Oddly, the pool. :-) And Martha Stewart, WTF? LOL
It's a little sad how disconnected we become through time unless we make this incredible effort to remain so. I've been thinking about that a lot lately, but it's not really the point right now.
The point is, on Sunday George Carlin died. I had no idea until I saw it on the Vox home page. I guess it's better than not knowing at all. I saw Carlin for the first time at the way too young age of 10, up way too late, secretly switching channels from some old western to HBO and Saturday Night Live, the volume turned down way low so I had to sit right next to the TV and not wake anyone else up and get caught.
Carlin was going on about his "List of Words You Can't Say on Television" and even then I knew a) I was going to be in SO much trouble for watching this, and b) it was quite possibly the funniest thing I had ever seen in my whole 10 years on the planet. After that I caught him whenever I could sneak him in.
Over the years I watched him deal with everything from losing your keys to what seemed like genuine disdain for the state of the world all cleverly turned in particular voice and cadence and delivered with what I can only call passionate apathy. George could certainly pull that off.
Wherever you've gone on to, George, I've no doubt you've got a place for your stuff now.
Show us summer.
I was looking for a couple of other older shots but I can't seem to find them. It kind of sucks, too...since they were a few of my favorites. They were part of older Flickr or stock accounts so I'm not sure where they've gone, but I'm hoping they're on my other computer at home. Why do I delete these things??
...I found them! I really hate being deletey, damnit. lol
