Another Question

What are we blogging for? What is it we think the world has to hear? Do we really think anyone’s watching or listening? Are we really impacting anyone’s lives? If I quit tomorrow, would anyone even notice?

I would notice if you quit coming here. Really. I go out there to Blog-City and traipse around, peaking in the web windows to see if you are still around. If you are I go across the way and catch the web surfer to another part of town and see if you left a note where I have my latte’s.

I thought by us checking each others places out, we would learn to go outside of our comfort zones, and experience new frontiers. I do that for my readership. I go to their place and have tea, because they don’t drink coffee, or say they just are out right at the moment.

I listen to the hideous noise they call music, sipping tea, reading poetry, and comment politely on the weather. I read with them the topics they are passionate about, even though I don’t normally do those types of things. I listen to them scream about injustice, and hear them cry their pain.

They shout their joy and make the trees quiver. They pound their fists on the table and tell me what is what. They make me want to do something, and for the life of me, I just don’t know what to do. Or what I can do.

They tell me they’re happy, and actually have a plan. Yet I see the tears in their eyes, and I just don’t understand. They all have such great ideas, with a platform to share, and sometimes it seems like they really want to care. If only they all weren’t so damn scared.

All this anonymity and we’re afraid someone will know what we are doing. Find out we are being rebellious or waxing poetic or just writing crap. I can see the comic for me. “Jimmy comes out of the closet” and it’s a computer he’s carrying! Ops…sorry, I mean a smart phone.

So I’ve shown my age almost. When I was a kid: The guy doing the family portrait used cold chisels and worked with stone. It took ten years to get the thing finished and then you couldn’t hang it anywhere in the cave, because it was too dang heavy, and I never got around to inventing something to hold it up on the wall.

We the people of this blogosphere do need to help those that cry, encourage those that really try, embrace those that truly fly and mourn for those that wish to die. And now the question you all ask of me, just which one of these am I?