happy blogging

I read a lot of blogs lately. Call it procrastination; call it boredom. I think it is some contorted combination of those two things, but I can’t be certain that there isn’t some level of cultural curiosity added into that mix. One thing that lots of people seem to agree about: we blog to complain, to vent, and to weep. I wonder why that is.

Why is it harder to respond to another person’s blog than to create one of my own? I added a counter down there at the bottom. See it? The rainbow-colored cube? [I am watching you.] I’m fascinated by how many people from so many places stop by and stay long enough to read, but don’t ever respond. Who are you?

Anyway, back to my point: blogging about misery. Why don’t we share our happy thoughts as readily as our frustrated ones? mmmm

Two blogs that I regularly read did happy blogs today (you know that if you followed the links above). I'm inspired to try my hand at it.

Nothing comes.

In fact, it is not only on blogs that I wallow in pain. I called a friend today to complain about my life and we had the longest and best conversation we’ve had in months.

What happens to the happy?

Well, let’s see, I have a friend coming to town next week to visit. I’m looking forward to that, but I hate that I live so far out… wait…wait... happy

Oh, I know, the sun was out today and the temperature topped out at 80 degrees. That is nice. Of course, I was indoors all day… see, there I go again.

I read lots of blogs, like I said earlier. I rarely comment. I figure no one cares what I have to say. Yet, I find that I check my own blog frequently to see if anyone responded. Like I’m out there with my nets cast, waiting to get a tug, just some sign that the world exists.

Does it? Is our town now so big that we will sit at keyboards, behind glowing screens, pouring our language out to the abyss, hoping for a ping?

And you see, this turns out not to be a happy blog after all. :)