A friend I made recently got me thinking about why I feel the need to chronicle things. My life is not that interesting, so why am I bothering to write about it? Why not just live my life? I thought about it for a long time, and I realized that the more significant question is why are you reading this?
If you answer something like “I enjoy it”, then you make me smile. If you answer “Kate is my friend and I am obligated to read her blog because she talks about it all the fucking time” then you make me smile too. If you read my blog because you want to hear more about Mr. Grumpiface, then THAT makes me smile too. If there are more reasons, I can’t think of them. (though you could always comment and tell me…) But the fact is, having people read my blog makes me smile.
Working on something that others enjoy is proven to give you satisfaction and joy, even if you are not getting any material benefit out of your work. This doesn’t give me any material gain (send money!) but I love doing it anyway. I love sharing my stories, the little everyday things that I do differently from others – the things that make me who I am. And, at the very core, it makes me proud to be who I am. I’m proud of my flaws, the things that make me memorable to others. You know why? People HATE perfect people. We want to hear about people overcoming adversity and struggling, because we can relate to those people.
One of our reps from the company we mainly work with just left for a company we don’t work with at all. I’m sad to see him go, but I’m glad that I never took M’s advice/command that I should never tell anyone anything personal or out of the ordinary. Now, this rep may be leaving, but he will always remember me as the lady who has a rat-sized gas chamber called “Mauschwitz” that she uses to kill rats to feed to her snake. That shit stands out. Or, he recently had a kid, so I sent him a link for the Baby Owner’s Manual from Thinkgeek. When he was talking about naming the prospective child, I gave him a bunch of articles on names that will or will not fuck your kid up for life. He will remember me because I’m weird. I am unexpected. Not because I’m pretty or smart or good at my job. The world is full of useless, pretty people. I don’t need to be one of them.
I write because I like to think that my opinion matters. I write because it clears my mind and relieves stress, but it also gets me thinking about what I want to write about. It helps me stay on track with my goals, it keeps my writing skills and my wit sharp. It makes me feel good about myself, when my day sucks or I’m finding something frustrating. I write because sometimes, I feel powerless and writing about something is all I can do. But it’s something.
Most importantly, I write because I enjoy it.
So, thank you for reading my blog. I really, honestly appreciate that you’ve chosen my insignificant musings to entertain yourself.
I don’t have any relevant pictures, so here’s a totally unrelated one: