but I am blogging.
I should be feeding the dog, doing my ironing, making myself some healthy supper but instead, I am blogging.
What is it about blogging that is just so addictive? I long for the comments, love reading what my fellow 'blogmates' have been up to and their latest thoughts. I feel remiss, as though something is missing when I don't blog in a day.
Certainly, an addictive personality anyway by nature, I am completely hooked to blogging, to my blog and to perusing others. But, the eternal question, why?
Certainly, blogging is a release. As I write, I feel the tension in my shoulders seep through my fingers, to be released in letters which swim, like fish, away into the blogosphere. But if that was the case, then why doesn't writing in a diary feel the same? It must be the recognition, or the public aspect of blogging which makes it so satisfying and so addictive. For me, certainly, it is probably the only way which I will ever reach a public audience, and somehow, seeing one's work in type, out there in cyberworld does give one a buzz. A labour of love, from the archived posts in the sidebar to the specially selected bloglinks - all reveals a side of the writer that no one else may know. Only one other person in my life knows that I keep a weblog - the other people are all fellow bloggers and maybe that is the key.
Maybe, it is the sense of belonging, of recognition, of being part of a community where one's deepest thoughts and feelings are not laughed at, but instead, are carefully considered and commented on....