Quite a few people recently have posed the question to me, why did you start blogging?
To be entirely truthful, I'm not sure. The concept of blogging has always interested me, ever since I heard of it. And one day I sat down, did a little research, and found a simple blog layout that I enjoy. Since then, it has become part of my routine, what I do.
I know that I'm not the best writer. I also know that I am a step above a lot of people. Somtimes what I write is very good. Other times, it's a load of junk. Whatever it is, it helps me, and that's all that matters. If I write to please other people, I'm not writing. If I tell only the things that make other people happy, I have no place speaking. If the stories I write aren't my stories, if they mean nothing to me, they are nothing.
I am not the most social person in the world. I would much rather sit at home with a book, then go out and be part of a lavish party. I would rather sit and watch TV with Jonah, babysit, or generally be around kids, then go to a dance full of drama. But when I'm writing, I know I'm safe. No one expects anything more of me then what they get. No one expects me to be all pretty, to say the right thing. They don't read it hoping for a happy ending. They read it to know how I'm doing, and what I'm thinking.
Now, I don't know why they care, but that's their problem, not mine.
I would not be able to function if I couldn't write.