Lately, I have been reading blogs, but not really blogging. I think it's because I don't have a consistent thought past 140 characters at a time, so I have mini-blog-like posts via twitter. (Follow me here. You know you want to. I protect my tweets, but once you're in, you'll see the awesomeness.)
Lately though in my lurking on other blogs, I have seen how blogging is cathartic. It's like a really good cry in The Notebook. You're not really sad, but sometimes you need an outlet of emotion so that something little doesn't trigger the ugly crier a la Farrah in Teen Mom in all of us. (Dude. Seriously, she shouldn't fight the cry, I think her resistance makes it uglier. But that's not the point of this post.)
I know that I can post about insignificant things like nail polish and cupcakes, but I do try to blog to get out some of the ramblings in my head. I know that family read my blog to keep tabs on me, so there's an update or two interlaced with amongst things. But blogging for me has become therapy.
It's much easier on the wallet than retail therapy, has opened my eyes to other bloggers that let me escape from my head every once in awhile, and has even introduced me to people I converse with regularly via social media. You find that there are more people on your boat or at least on your body of water that you would have found in traditional means. You also get to read about other events in peoples' lives that inspire you to do more or motivate you to take the plunge on something that scares the heeby jeebies out of you.
Blogging really is a therapy that just let's your mind declutter and rest.
Seriously though, I'll still blog about nail polish and cupcakes because, well, it's fun! Not everything needs to have meaning. (At least that's what I told my Humanities teacher in high school. Which he didn't appreciate. And then I had to use my logic on him and blow his mind that maybe the meaning of something is nothing. Boom! Schooled. Oh, and I got an A.)