Someone Understands Me!

We're not quite a cult, us bloggers, but there is something a bit "different" about us:

Blogging is an undignified pastime for an adult, because to do it well requires a degree of obsession - and obsession is something adults are supposed to eliminate from their psyche. (I never did understand those people who collect Barbie dolls.) Frankly, it's a lot like being an addict: Everything becomes centered around feeding the beast.

I don't think non-bloggers can begin to grasp how much time and energy this sucks from the rest of your life. The laundry that doesn't get done, the book that doesn't get written, the phone calls that don't get made. It's not a hobby; it's a calling. (And, except for the most successful bloggers, a vow of poverty. If you only knew how close to the edge many well-known bloggers live!)

In order to function, most people get to indulge in a degree of healthy denial. They turn off the TV, they stop reading the news for a while. They allow themselves to
take a mental vacation from the horrors.

Bloggers do exactly the opposite. In a sense, our function echoes that of the exorcist: We invite the horrors in and then we spit them back out, trying to expell them from the body politic. It does something to you.

Some bloggers are sensible. They can limit themselves to a few posts per week, they manage to keep things in perspective. I'm not one of those people. That's why I post some oddball stuff, too. Sometimes I have to blow off some steam - and hey, I don't drink.

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