"What Do I Know? turns one!" types Chatty KathyF.
A year ago I was bored, so I started a blog. (That's sort of how I ended up with two children, and the similarity doesn't end there. Blogs are whiny, self-centered, and can't be left unattended for long. Poopy nappies figure in there too.)
More than once, I've asked myself why I do this, though I try to keep public navel gazing to a minimum. As I celebrate the first birthday of What Do I Know? I'll indulge: it's my space, after all. But I'm also tempted to ask, what have I learned—err, What Do I Know Now?
I began this blog with few aspirations and even fewer HTML skills. It took days to figure out how to make a hyperlink, and weeks to learn how to insert images. I primarily wanted to amuse my family and friends with snark-filled rants about life in a foreign country. (Actually, I didn't know what "snark" meant either; that's another thing I've learned.) I also knew I'd be ranting about politics, a passion of mine ever since I proudly admitted to being a liberal in northeast Louisiana in 1980. There was also mention of sharing "pustules of knowledge", whatever those are.
And I had a vague notion to post the odd recipe.
My first post detailed my torturous search for a blog name and debated plural first-person usage. In the second I delved into statistics and quickly delved back out. The third was quite possibly my finest; they've slunk downhill from there.
A few months later I tried to stir the pot during the British elections; my efforts were met with snores. As far as I know Tony Blair never even read my letters offering advice. I did hit the link jackpot with a little piece I tossed off one day called Downing Street Memo for Dummies; thousands viewed it in one day, causing my head to spin. (After it swelled; messy sight it was too.) This one also got me some major hittage, and cinched my rep as a Feminazi. When I took liberals to task, I touched some nerves, and when I blogged about the London bombings, I touched my own nerves.
My favorite posts are the ones about my dog, but commenters seem attracted to Friday Cow (and Other Species) Blogging. Speaking of comments, you've posted 2140, while I've written 560 posts. If each one is equivalent to a page, I could have written a novel instead. But then I've been there, done that, and with almost 70,000 page views, my blog has had more readers than my fiction ever will.
I've learned to writer faster, though not necessarily better. When I first started blogging, I'd painstakingly type essays in Word, then transfer them character by character into TypePad, editing along the way. I'd sometimes spend several days crafting a post I'd feel comfortable showing the world. I was a very self-conscious writer, and it showed.
Now I lob them out there like spitballs aimed at the ceiling. A quick spellcheck and I'm done. Quality has slipped; readership is up. (My inner perfectionist suspects there's a lesson there, but isn't quite ready to hear it.) Dazzling metaphors? Why bother, when a picture is worth a thousand similes?
Blogging has changed my life. Yes, really. I find myself signing up to do things so that I'll have something to blog about. No one wants to read about What I Did in My Cave Today, so I venture out, in search of a blog post, and find my life is enriched by my experiences. (Insert sappy score here—You Light Up My Life or else Wind Beneath My Wings.) I constantly ask myself, is this blogworthy? What if I can get photos? Would one of the Kathys enjoy hearing about this? Because it's all about the Chatty Kathys.
Blogging gives new meaning to "talking to oneself." I blog to myself, while driving, reading, walking in the woods—those woods are littered with my tossed off ideas. (Metaphor! You're back!) And isn't it odd how the most mundane of days sounds much more fun on a blog? I've almost convinced myself I'm living the high life while I shovel the dog poop.
I've made friends at other blogs, the perfect kind of friends: I can ignore them if I'm feeling introverted, for days or weeks, and then pop in and say hello. No need to make conversation over lunch; an occasional comment fills the social obligation.
I've given up on being a news-chasing a-list blogger, though occasionally when the news is right in front of me I chime in. Politics, though, still fascinates me and I can't resist the occasional rant from left field. I don't for a moment suspect it changes any minds, although I hope the few readers I have who don't already agree with me might at least scratch their heads and wonder.
And maybe that's enough.
So, in conclusion (she finally says, as the audience blinks awake) I've decided to keep this whiny, navel-gazing, poorly written but mostly grammatically correct blog, for now, even though I'm nowhere near as bored as I was one year (and one day) ago. Blame that, I suppose, on the blog.
What do I know now? A lot more. But still not enough.
