For years, I have followed a variety of interests and favorite authors through blogs. I get easily irritated when particular favorites don’t keep up with their blogs because they are off doing something serious, like writing a book or traveling for book signings. Why, why, why?! I want it all – I want them to write books and share those precious tidbits on a daily basis – or maybe just weekly! I have become the worst aspect of modern living, desiring that instant gratification.
It wasn’t always so. When I was growing up, I had two pen pals. Living on a mountain up a long gravel road, our mailbox was on the paved road a mile away. I would aggravate my mother to stop her daily list of chores during the summer so we could go to the mailbox. Days and weeks would pass until to my almost orgasmic sense of joy, we would find a letter addressed to me, quickly followed by a bit of a shoulder-slumping let down when my young pen pal would send a one-page letter in large looping handwriting, that contained mostly questions about what I was doing and what was my favorite color. In retrospect, they were probably written under duress, with a parent standing over them to force them to at least write one page.
Giving up finally on letters from my friends, I put my own efforts into a daily journal. Sometimes I would write just a sentence or two about a book that I read that day, since summer trips to the library meant checking out a minimum of seven books for the week. Or I would wax philosophical about all the places I would go when I was older and all the things I planned to do. The mountains at the time seemed dull and boring since I had explored them for years. I had dreams of exotic travel journals covered in stickers from the far flung lands, like the old steamer trunks in Agatha Christie stories. Don’t think I don’t miss the irony that several years after leaving home, I eventually found my way back to the mountain. It pairs well with the fact that I am an introvert who never planned on having children and now I am married to an extrovert, living with two precocious children with limitless curiosity.
And here I sit, wondering as I start my own blog, am I going to aggravate someone because I may not always get a post written because I am busy working on something else? And what of interest can I share with someone kind enough to seek out my site and read through to the end of a post? If you’ve read this far, you must not be into instant gratification, but maybe I can share some more interesting tidbits than my favorite color.
(Which is green.)
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton