Sometimes I think I can’t write a valuable post to save my life.
I’m either writing about how grateful I am or how fearful I am. I’m either starting a project or writing about a good reason for not starting one.
When I sit down to write a blog post, sometimes I think, I have no words to say that will help you. What am I giving to my readers with these words? What value am I creating? What impact am I having on the world?
I compare myself to so many other bloggers and so many other stats. Numbers. It’s really all about numbers in this blogging world. Numbers and value. It’s not really an open competition, but it’s subtle, I think. Everyone is trying to do better, secretly. Everyone is trying to be the very best.
There’s nothing wrong with this of course, but personally, I feel like it always sets me up for disaster. I just spent an entire evening at a dinner table telling my 14 year old brother not to compare himself to other people. And here I am. Comparing myself to other bloggers with better numbers, creating better value.
But I’ll tell you one true thing. Or a couple of them. I turned 29 tonight, and I can say with my fullest heart that every time I sit down to this laptop, all I want to do is blog. I can read and do research for projects I’m working on, but all I really want to do is blog. People are out there writing about a lot of ways to become better bloggers. But sometimes I feel like saying, that’s just not my style. What if all I want to do is write about nothing?
I mean come on. Seinfeld was a show about nothing. This blog could be my Seinfeld.
This blog is like me sitting in a coffee shop talking about how I want to date a really tall woman. Do you remember that Seinfeld episode? Where George is talking about how he really wanted to be with a super tall woman? This blog is like Kramer walking into a room, Jerry grabbing a soda from the fridge, and Elaine walking towards the bathroom.
Nothing, people. But the best nothing ever, right? Maybe not this blog, but that show was genius. Is genius. Because it’s about the quirks in life that everyone can relate to. It makes you feel a little less silly for asking the maid at a hotel if you can please not tuck in one side of the bed because you like your sheets untucked. I mean who puts that in a TV episode?
Hardcore Seinfeld fans will know what I mean here. La puerta esta abierta. Every night Adam watches Seinfeld at 10pm. It’s on channel 13. I think we’ve seen every episode 5 times. Okay maybe he’s seen way more than me. But that show is exactly how I feel right now. There’s no reason for what I write about sometimes. There’s no real thought behind it. It’s just an ebb and flow of thought. And it feels good. It feels like all I wanna do.
And I think at this point people see me as a blogger, which is awesome. When I tell people what I’m up to nowadays, there’s almost always someone that says, “Are you going to blog about it?” And I get so excited when I hear that. Because I am associated with something that I love doing. Even if it’s a bunch of nothing, haha.
But nothing is something. I’ve stopped really wanting something out of this blog, because just by writing a couple of times a week, I’m getting something. I’m getting…the feeling of being accomplished for having done something. I am a blogger. I can officially say that, I think. I even Skyped Adam at work the other day and told him I wanted this shirt. Because it couldn’t be more me.
Sometimes I’ll just go to my blog and stare at it for a couple of minutes. Just loving it. Making sure it’s working okay, even if there’s nothing new I’m seeing, even if nothing’s changed. I just like to visit it and adore it. Like a knit blanket I’ve just made. Or a book I’ve written. Or a picture I’ve taken. I feel like I’ve somehow contributed or done something special. And that’s what keeps me coming back.
Do you have anything like this in your life? Even if sometimes you feel like it’s not going to take you anywhere, you feel like you can’t get enough?
It’s like this song by Sara Bareilles, Gravity. Something always brings me back to you.