Why Do I Write A Blog?

I think it is worth it every now-and-then to stop and reflect upon why I write this thing. A great number of us do it for profit. I can appreciate that, although I think it would be really difficult to do this as a living, let alone make enough to consider it worthwhile. Others have “bells to ring.” We engage in this enterprise to promote a cause. If it’s the only way one promotes a cause I think the cause is liable to fall into the pit of obscurity. There’s got to be more than a blog to promote any entrepreneurial endeavor, whether a business or a charitable cause or a social movement.

So, why do I write this thing? It’s not to gain any sort of profit. That’s obvious. There are no adds. There are no buttons saying “click here” to make a contribution to Charlie’s Favorite Fund. I’m tired of promoting social movements. I know how to do this, at least on the micro level, and it is not going to happen by way of a blog.

So, why do I write this thing?

It’s about self-expression for me. I can write it up, whatever “it” is. I can love “it,” hate “it,” question “it.” I can explore my own thoughts and feelings about stuff. For decades my job forced me into a silo. I had to work hard to stay current. Others who created the latest-and-greatest program or product forced my thinking to conform to its image. This was true in ministry and as a librarian.

Now I can write what I want. You may read it — or not — it’s up to you. I’m not counting success by how many followers I have. I have only a few compared to many of you. And as far as those that read my words I am simply named “charlie.” Charlie is both a female and a male name, although if you read all of my posts, you know my gender. In case you think you can guess my gender by the fact that I was a pastor, realize I was a pastor of a very liberal denomination. We have been ordaining women for many decades! I may be married or I may have a domestic partner. Or, I may live alone and only “pretend” I am married or in a committed relationship, or divorced or just broke up. Although “pretending” is so much like most of my adult life that I abhor it and would never see the point of it at this juncture in my life.

What I write is my way of finding myself again after decades of wearing the masks that making a living required. I could lose my way along the journey from the early days in my teens when poetry flowed as easily as water to retirement when I had learned not to care for poetry because it speaks to a reality that actually is not real at all. Hope to cynicism. Now I’m finding hope again.

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