To blog is to complain or perhaps to crow your personal epiphanies? To blog is to express a sense of knowing by the fact of words to the affirmative set down with total confidence in your opinion. To blog is to send out an emotional tether to strangers to enjoy the faux experience of connection and affirmation to what would otherwise without the social networking mechanism serve as total isolation and loneliness. To blog is a cheap psychiatrist that passively allows you to probe your own paradigm through the collection of chronic topics that one unfailingly returns to until your site drives away anyone beyond the few that are equally obsessed with that subject.
Definition is a strictly categorized and heavily defined world of compartments or every style and variety. A myth of social consensus highly diminished by all of what is stated leaving the stain of the ‘uber-society’ that uses this raw material to fashion a convenient image of itself that is as contrived as the amalgam of technology standing in for the chaos of the universe. When is the last time anything really new and unexpected happened in your life? And when is the last time that you didn’t recede immediately from the happenstance of so similar and experience? The asking of those simple questions itself brings down the crushing weight of a possible sense of lacking some quality that the larger ‘uber-cult’ infers that its members should possibly enjoy. That is of course, “maybe?”
Maybe in the sense that without a nod from above in the form of some lifestyle affirming social institutional mechanism to give one the proper cue, one has to make a self-judgment? “Have I missed out here in some way?” “Have I failed to experience something that others take for granted?” “Is my experience of life flawed compared to that of every other member of the culture that I exist within?” These seem the sort of questions one might expect to hear vocalized within the chorus of a school of fish in a very small fish tank. A judgmental statement, it there ever was one.
So, does this form of self-inquisitive proclamation repel or attract opinion or perhaps does it free one from moral authority of simply having to account for their every impulse? What should have been in terms of the myriad of actions is merely chalky scribbled experience upon one’s blackboard? The answer to such inquiries must ultimately be what any animal in the wild might vocalize in the wilderness of the night. “Because, that’s just what I do.”