At the risk of blogging about blogging…

Since I turned off the comments on this blog, I liberated myself, free to write about whatever I want with whatever opinions I have. It was always my blog, but out of insecurity was born a watered down blog. My voice seemed foggy and dim to me. It’s a shame.

I didn’t get a lot of comments anyway, probably because the content didn’t encourage discussion, surely not edgy enough, for good or bad. I’ve engaged in very little, if any, online conflict. And whenever I was tempted, it was only because the other person was taking me way too seriously. (Since turning off comments, I have wondered what it would be like to get into a virtual knock-down-drag-out. It’s just an amusing thought though. Virtual people are still very real people to me.)

Now it’s more of a diary that anyone is welcome to come and read. Once I began to feel like an adult, at about 22, (and always when I’m feeling really lucid with just the right amount of caffeine) I realized I don’t have anything to hide. Why should a blog be any different?

It’s not only turning off the comments that has changed my own voice. Some credit goes to the 3 hours alone that I get 5 days a week now. I read 3 or 4 times more than I did a year ago. I can get lost in the voices of other writers when the house is cool and quiet.

If a blog could have a physical location, I feels that mine has literally moved. The blog packed up and picked up, and here I am in a new place. The changes in content and writing are subtle, especially to someone stumbling in from a search on “parenting” or “Paul Auster”. Only some of you will notice.