Blogs, blogs, everyone loves blogs

Blogs are "in". They're hip. And for the first time in my life, I am involved in a trend before it has long been out of style (are bell-bottoms still in?).

There are so many blogs out there, from the political (http://www.Angryinthegreatwhitenorth.blogspot.com) to the celebrity (http://www.silentbobspeaks.com/) or (http://www.wilwheaton.net) to the downright crazy (http://www.captainsquarters.blogspot.com/) or (http://www.leorab.blogspot.com). And then there are just the everyday "Joe"s and "Jane"s who have their own little piece of the worldwide web to write about their own little mundane lives. Somehow, even they are interesting.

The first time I was in Paris, about 3 years ago, I slept in this old Anglophone bookstore called "Shakespeare & Company" right across from Notre Dame Cathedral. It was run by George Whitman, a 90-something year old gentleman (in the true sense of the word) who allowed some travellers to stay there a little while--on the condition that they write down the story of their lives. I remembered struggling through the assignment because I found my own life too boring, too mundane, to write about. I couldn't understand why George would want to collect these memoirs...until I heard one read aloud. There was a Swedish girl staying in the bookstore at the same time as I, and I remembered that for the first few days, I didn't like her very much. She was absolutely stunning, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, whose parents were paying for this trip. She was staying in bookstore not because she couldn't afford to stay anywhere else (like me) but because she thought that it would be an interesting experience. It seemed to me that she had it made in this world. But one night, we read each other our stories. Her life, which on the surface seemed perfect, actually had been rather difficult. Her younger brother had gotten into a car accident and lost his legs, so she spend much of her childhood caring for him. And she said that although she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do with her life, she wanted to help people. After I heard all this I felt ashamed for being so judgmental. I was judging her based on such superficial criteria, and forget that everyone has a story. And blogs are a great way to hear them...in theory, at least.

Because although people's lives are interesting, their day-to-day experiences are not always so entertaining. And I've noticed a disturbing number of writers filling their blogs with anecdotes of grocery shopping, clothes they can't afford, and nights out at the bar. Or even worse, ranting about the government/the world in general/Lindsay Lohan. All of those things are fine in moderation, but when that's all these people write about, it's just not interesting. Frankly, if I didn't write it myself, I probably wouldn't read my blog. Which is why I'm shocked when I meet people or receive e-mails from regular readers.

I'm not entirely sure how to feel about strangers reading about my life. On the one hand, I'm flattered, very flattered. But on the other hand, I'm not entirely sure how to write anymore. When I thought that it was just my friends and family reading, I could really be myself--the corny joke loving, Star Trek addicted spaz that I am. But now that I know that strangers read it too, I feel the need to seem more sophisticated. Pardon me, but does anyone here have any Grey Poupon? I don't know even how much I'll be updating it once the semester begins. My updates are sporadic at best right now, and they'll only get worse once school starts. I may even have to start "phoning it in", so although I'll be writing, what I write will be boring as hell when my life is just class after lab after class. If it gets to that stage, perhaps I'll even have to write a few posts about Lindsay Lohan. At least her life, as she descends further into moral decrepitude, is always interesting!