Even Educated Fleas Do It.

Everyone is doing it. A friend of mine does it in her living room and I have another friend who does it regularly on the train. I’ve even heard of people who do it in the middle of the town centre during their lunch breaks. Some do it secretly and use questionable and somewhat seedy websites as their mediums. I personally have never done it. Well, not really. Kind of, but not quite. I am of course talking about blogging.

It is crazy to think that I’ve never gotten round to doing this. I’ve had access to the internet since 2000 and have regularly used websites such as Myspace and Facebook to share recipes, talk about my life and share my views on various subjects... but I’ve never actually started a real blog. I am a blog virgin. There isn’t really a reason for this other than me being very lazy and quite often at a loss for words. I can pretend that working as a freelance writer and hating every moment of it is a good enough reason, but it hasn’t stopped me having an opinion worth writing about.

A friend of mine recently asked me to take a look at his blogs (yes, he has more than one!) and wanted my opinion on the content. He wrote beautifully and, it seems, with great ease. I will admit that I was jealous of his commitment to his blogs and the passion with which he wrote, but it seems that even though everyone seems to be doing it, I still can’t quite dedicate my thoughts and feelings to just one medium. This is mostly due to fear. Fear that it won’t be good enough, interesting enough or often enough to keep up with everyone else. I fear inferiority.

Yes, I was proud of my piece on the demise of the perfume industry, but I wrote it nearly a year ago and my piece before that was just a recipe for a friend a year before that. Yes, I’ve written a very short piece on the pros and cons of singledom and an advert for the sale of my heart, but these are mere trifles considering what I’d written years ago. So Yes. I am a writer who can no longer write.

There may come a time where I feel strong enough to bang something out worth reading. I just don’t feel that it will be soon. Therefore I shall resign myself to reading what my friends have effortlessly written whilst in the bath, in a field or in the back of their cars... for now.