Bringing Back Blogging

A hand with sparkly green nail polish holds a small white ceramic coffee mug by its handle. The body of the mug sits on a coaster on a brown desk in front of a yellow painted wall and a window with daylight coming in. — _{My bestie and I were recently joking about drinking from “reasonably sized” coffee mugs. This is one she gave me for my birthday this year.}

We’re bringing back chaotic “no one cares what you had for lunch” blogging in 2025.

I’ve been feeling increasingly constrained by and ambivalent about social media, pretty much since the beginning of this year. I don’t need the odd collection of extended family members and elementary school classmates who I’m connected to on Facebook to know about the random stupid thoughts I’m having about my daily life. I’m feeling more and more hesitant to upload even casual photos onto Instagram, where it feels like I’m completely setting my privacy on fire, usually for not much more than the sake of a few cheap laughs. Bluesky is rapidly becoming just as annoying as Twitter was at its pre-X worst, despite my best efforts to selectively curate my feed there, and I certainly don’t have the stomach to constantly perform the moral outrage that it seems to thrive on anyway. I do have a newsletter (pointedly not a Substack), but it feels like the height of narcissism to pollute my few subscribers’ inboxes just to blather about my half-formed middle-of-the-night musings. Tumblr…well, Tumblr I still do truly love but mostly just use as a digital scrapbook to repost images, memes, and quotes, which is to say, not really for my own original thoughts and writing.

So where does one turn to write and share in such circumstances? The blog that I’ve had online since late 2013, of course!

Really, though, this feels more like a return to 2004-style blogging, if I’m being honest. No one is paying attention to anything I’m doing here, and that’s a good thing. Despite my ego’s persistent belief that nothing I do is valid if it’s not pulling me into the spotlight, I know that my creativity actually flourishes most when I feel like I’m just farting around, no pressure. In the mid 2000s when I created my original Blogspot blog, I was happily pushing posts out into the void, just obeying my inner impulse to express, express, express. I knew that a handful of friends occasionally refreshed the page to check for new posts, but this was before RSS feeds (not to mention before the infinite scroll of social media), so even the occasional comment that I received there would arrive at random, not within seconds of the post going live.

That mid-to-late-2000s era also coincided with my own mid-to-late 20s, a time in my life when I was so full of thoughts and feelings that most days it felt like my head would actually explode if I didn’t get them all out. I had a pretty consistent physical journaling practice, and I was of course also talking at length to my real-life friends (most of whom weren’t online at that point, and, actually, still aren’t to this day). But there were still plenty of things pinging around my mind that I wanted to dig into, and blogging felt like this sweet spot where I could be as serious or as silly, as bloviating or brief as I wanted to be. It was a way of thinking out loud, of conversing with myself, of not just poring over my most urgent obsessions but also tracking the flimsiest of my whims on a near-daily basis.

So why do I suddenly feel reunited with that particular stream of energy again? As I mentioned above, I think it’s that most of my social media accounts seem to have dramatically diminished their hold on my attention, so whatever energy I’d been putting into them as a means of “expressing myself” suddenly isn’t being diverted into those pathways anymore. The result being that all my nagging little notions and impulses, the contents of my constantly churning internal monologue, keep building and building and building in intensity and urgency with nowhere (as yet) to go. It’s very similar to that rush of energy I experienced in my 20s when I almost literally could not stop myself from writing/thinking/talking. It’s a bit like I’ve looped around some kind of mid-30s-to-mid-40s detour to rejoin a path that looks a little worse for wear but still feels intensely familiar.

So, I’m hoping to reclaim this section of my site here as a place to truly just blog. Not even to write, and definitely not to pontificate. Not to be smart or cool or thought-provoking or critical or, heaven forbid, helpful. I don’t want to recommend anything to you; I don’t want you to be swayed by anything I have to say. Hell, I barely want you to read this at all, if I’m being honest. I can’t promise to post on any kind of predictable schedule and I definitely can’t tell you how much or how often I’m going to be sharing here. But I am looking forward to jotting down notes and tossing off some very silly one-liners and maybe occasionally expressing something kind of heartfelt. Mostly just amusing myself and doing my best to off-gas some thoughts that otherwise would either actively be keeping me up at night or just disappearing into the ether altogether.

So let’s fuckin’ go. (Back.) (Again.)