Bub and Pie tagged me to do a meme about why I blog. Her version was great. (Do you read her? You should. She’s an insightful writer who analyzes everything to death—I love this.) I’m supposed to produce 5 reasons. Maybe, given my tendency to verbosity, I can get credit for 3 LONG reasons.


1. Once when I was winging my way across the blogosphere, swinging from link to link to link and ended up far from home and wishing I’d left a trail of crumbs behind me (yes I realize I mixed those metaphors. I did it on purpose), I found a blog with the tagline “Blogging in my Head Since 1976.” I loved that. (No idea who it was. I bookmarked it but I lost all my old bookmarks when the computer crashed; I’ve never found that particular blog again so I can’t give credit.) I could totally relate.

I’ve always kept a journal, not daily or anything that would smack of the Organized Life, but I’ve always got at least one going. I am constantly “writing” in my head—I’ve done this since I was about 7 or 8. But, as Madeleine L’Engle says in Walking on Water, “The writer does want to be published…Art is communication…The author and the reader ‘know’ each other; they meet on a bridge of words.” Writers write to be read. (No that doesn’t mean you can read my journal, Smartypants) A year ago, I had heard the term “blog” but I couldn’t picture it. An online journal? It didn’t make sense. Then, in February 2006, after literally months of promises of “next week, insha’allah” by Mauritel (I heart Mauritel; I really really do), we actually got internet at our house. I went to visit my IRL friend WackyMommy’s website, the one she had told me about. As soon as I read it, and clicked on her blogroll and read other blogs, I knew I wanted a blog. I got one almost immediately.

I used to write a weekly humour column called Momsense for a local paper, when Elliot was 3 or 4 and the twins were about 2. It was a lot of fun, and if I still had copies of those columns I’d repost them occasionally, the best ones, on days I didn’t have time to write. I always put my email address at the end of those columns, hoping people would write me. A few did, but it was rare. But the great thing about blogging is that I get feedback from my readers; I get to know them both through their comments on my blog and through their own blogs, that I in turn go and read. I love the immediacy of it, the community, the sense of wholeness between reader and writer. I love reading other blogs, a post sparking certain thoughts or impressions, and being able to respond to the other writer. (Although for the past month or so, my comments have been rare because of poor internet connection, so if you haven’t heard from me, don’t worry—I’m still reading when I can)

I blog because I write.


4. I live far away from a lot of people that I care about. When I write a blog, they get a glimpse of my daily life, a view into my world. (Do they actually read it? I have no idea. If they do, they are lurkers of the deepest dye. Tim? Phil? Sarah? Anyone? One sister-in-law reads AND comments, bless her. Hi Kris!)

Also, I love the new friends I’ve made; people I would love to sit down with over coffee in real life. I love this community I’ve found and been accepted into even though I am far away geographically; I love how people say they enjoy hearing about my life here on Planet Nomad, even though I know my daily life looks a bit different from theirs (except for Debbie and Steph and Michelle; hi guys!). I also feel much more in touch with my own home culture since I’ve begun blogging; I feel less like I live in a box in a galaxy far, far away, and more like I’m keeping up with things.


I blog to keep in touch and to share my life.


5. I know this will surprise you, but once in a while life here in the Big City isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Other drivers are idiotic; we haven’t gotten decent water for a month and the laundry’s piled up and the garden’s going brown; it’s 105 degrees AGAIN and only March; I miss American food. (This last statement must be qualified, as we eat American food most days, since that’s what I cook. I just miss certain things we can’t get here. Lately, I’ve been missing American salads—full of lots of good stuff, interesting dressings that I didn’t have to make myself, etc) Sometimes, if I’m down, writing in my journal doesn’t help me vent—instead it spins me into a spiral of self-pity. Not helpful. But blogging is somehow different. It makes things seem a bit more adventuresome, which in turn makes them interesting and even enjoyable, and snaps me out of my self-pity. Which is good. Because really, as I’m fond of saying when things go pear-shaped (as my British friends put it), “At least on Planet Nomad, we’re never bored.”


I blog because it helps keep me sane. Sanity is a good thing.


Well, nothing very original. I think almost everyone who did this meme had similar reasons. I passed my 100th post a while ago and didn’t mark it; I can’t imagine anyone wanting to read 100 things about me. But this came at a good time, as I mark my first blogiversary in a couple of weeks or so. (I will have to look it up). I remember how very very strange it felt to hit publish that first time and realize anyone could read it. I think 2 people did. (Thanks, Shannon! She really helped me get started)