Once you have an audience, you start trying to target your content to what you think your audience wants to read.
Are they sick of reading about my baby-ambivalence?
Do they miss the down-and-dirty marital fight stories?
Should I try to focus more and think out loud less?
I blog because I like the connectedness between you all and I. I blog because the essay format helps to guide my thoughts and focus my analysis. I blog because I find clarity in the written word that I lack in the verbal. I blog because otherwise I’d drive my husband and best friend nuts.
I have babies on the brain. I don’t want them, yet, but am approaching that point. Realtors say that when a prospective buyer starts to nitpick, they’re hooked: they’ve begun to imagine themselves in the house.
That’s me with the whole kid thing. My obsession and worry is because, for the first time EVER, I am picturing myself with my own children. I was never one of those kids who pictured herself as a mommy. I hated having to give a baby back — love me some cuddly infants — but the feeling was more selfishness than anything else.
Here I am, thirty years old, considering my mommy-ness for the first time. Much obsession will ensue. That’s how I make peace with change — I obsess my way through it.
I blog because I am learning to know myself better. Blogging my way through engagement gave me the freedom to be brutally honest about myself and my relationship. Rereading those archives reminds me of a lesson I thought I’d learned: I can only be the best me.
And so, this blog is likely to have a lot of baby-ness and ambivalence for a while — maybe even until we decide to spawn and beyond. I don’t know.
What I do know is that you all, my dear reader-friends, found me and stayed because something about my train-wreck of a brain was interesting (and maybe reminded you of yourself). So I will stop trying to focus and continue to blog about whatever is sitting on my chest, and we’ll see if you stick around.