I’m back from a much-needed blogcation. I say much-needed because blogging is pressure for me. Hey, I’m the product of the Catholic school system so my compulsiveness is hardwired(!). I feel the need to be relevant with each post I make – the irony of which is that the contents of this blog may be relevant to no one other than me. I so admire those candid and spontaneous bloggers like my friend Meg Tilly, who chronicles her daily life free association-like with rambling prose while touching on some genuinely profound discoveries about the human condition. Sometimes her sincerity is startling and that makes me admire her all the more.
But that’s not me. I’m too calculated with a keyboard.
Then there are those marvelously themed blogs like Kindertrauma created by new virtual pal Lance (aka Unkle Lancifer). The thematic consistency of blogs like this where every entry, every feature, every sidebar, and even the freakin' links are so perfectly attuned to one single point of focus that the result is nothing short of awe-inspiring.
But that’s not me. I’m too creatively A.D.D. (albeit undiagnosed) to stick to a single subject matter.
Instead, you’ve got the blogging mishmash that’s Slasher Speak, the topic-jumping musings of a writer struggling to find his career niche, a newly minted 40-year-old questioning his place in life. The elements are akin to a laundry heap of cultural irrelevance – slasher films, Jamie Lee Curtis, movie reviews and film commentary - even the occasional dabble in queer politics and an intermittent meditation or two on positive aging. It’s the antithesis of cohesive. So much for branding.
Ruminations. Musings. Babble and psychobabble.
It’s not much – but I call it home. Maybe it’s more me than I care to acknowledge.