I Hate Blogging

I hate blogging. Today is supposed to be some kind of creative writing, but to hell with that. To hell with blogging. This is supposed to be making me a better writer?

"The Artist's Way" program says to write 3 pages every morning. Of anything. No matter how bad, nonsensical, incorrect, etc. I can't do it. I don't believe I even have writer's block. I can get over it on my own, thanks, Julia Cameron. I don't need anyone else's methods or tricks; I have my own: blogging.

Well, blogging daily is stupid. Some days (more like most days), I don't have anything interesting to say. My life isn't all that interesting; the only person who reads this is probably just my mom. Like I couldn't just drive over and talk to her in person.

But blogging daily isn't just about having readers. It's about becoming a better writer, reflecting on my own life and growth as a person, having a reason to make my life interesting, and actually following through with something. Every. Single. Day. I hate blogging because it's inconvenient and has no direct benefits. But every once in awhile, someone clicks and ad and I get a little closer to reaching the $100 of AdSense revenue I need to finally get my first paycheck from Google. Oh, the things I could buy with that first check. (Like this Melodica I'll probably end up buying after I get my scholarship money, even though I should be patient and just beg for it for Christmas.)

And, though I would rather not admit it in my current I-hate-blogging state, blogging daily pressures me into continuing to write and reflect and grow even when it gets gross and uncomfortable. A few minutes before starting this post, I flung myself on my kitchen floor and mourned my tragic life, (Caused, of course, by my car: the never ending stream of broken headlights, tail lights going out, check engine turning light on, gas vanishing, and no money to pay for any of it.) hoping I might just fall asleep right there and wake up to find things better. The thought of sleep was the happiest thought I had at the moment, and then it hit me: I needed to write up the blog post for Saturday morning. Crap.

I should be sleeping right now. Lying somewhere, crying myself to sleep over my actually pretty easy life. But instead, I'm smiling as I finish up a blog post I didn't want to write.

I hate blogging because it forces me to face reality: that my life is really great and I have no reason to complain. Why can't I have a miserable life so I can complain? Stupid blogging, making me think. Making me WRITE.

Watch out, NaNoWriMo, I'm going to be more than ready for you this year. I love blogging.