Oh, the pressure of maintaining a blog!

There was a time early on, when I sneered at bloggers and thought, 'Jeez, why would anyone want to put up their personal diary on the Net for the world to see?' Hrmph! Tsk tsk! and more Hrmph! that followed were archetypical of a mindset and attitude that reeks of ignorance and plain old stubborness.

Today almost 2 years since that first exclamation, I've been writing regularly, so much so that the blog has actually replaced my own, papier diary. I've not dwelt on it and hence cannot say if I'm saddened, or ecstatic or anything at all really. Does it matter? I write, I express and I vent spleen. Yes, sometimes, because I know there are people out there reading my blog (which is a good thing, so please continue, it feels good and do leave your comments too), that it's not so private after all. In this medium, a simple 'Private Property. Trespassers will be prosecuted' won't work and it's not meant for the same anyway. This day and age is not of innocence but of voyeurs. It's not about self-abnegation, but self-gratification however crude and vulgar that may sound. (You know what I mean right when I use such high falutin' words? :) It's ok if you don't, who cares (shurgs!) )
And I too am prey and party to this voyeurism and the need to be gratified. We all need our 'fix'es, don't we?

There are times when I've felt this pressure of being clever and witty and writing poignant stuff, or stuff that makes one sit up and take notice. All to maintain this blog. All because one is worried about the audience however miniscule, that may come, read, never to return because of the self-flagellating content which can sometimes be a bit much to handle.

Anyway, the point is, there are moments nowadays, where one is somehow not necessarily at peace, but at a point, where one is left wondering - so matters that matter are being read or written about - what matters to me is being disucssed as I think it - what matters to me needs to matter only to me so why write about it anyway - why unleash sadness or 'a day in the life of' monologue at all?

Yes, am at a point and phase in life, where I question and I answer alone. You may think, ask or point to the unassailable fact that we come and go alone in this world of ours. True. But it's in this journey towards the inconctrovertible end that we like to amass followers, believers, friends, naysayers and enough baggage where we like to believe we're not alone. We like to pretend that life is immortal for all of us even when the end is certain. We're a strange species in the way we defy certainty, but I don't know if I'd like to be born any other, not animals, thank you, in my next life. Let's not get into ETs, etc, here shall we?

So yes, the pressure of maintaining this blog and my other blog too, does take its toll. Am I making a point here? No. Just that it's tough. Am I clever? No. Am I funny? No. Am I heart rendingly beautiful to read? No. Am I inspirational? No. Am I about to change the world with my writing? No. Am I trying to garner admiratiion, sympathy, brute honesty, encomiums, here? No.

But the writer in me wants all of the above and more. So? Yes, the pressure of maintaing a blog is tough.

Phew!