What if there were a place, a secret place, where people who had never been respected could get respect, the lonely could find companionship, the silent could find a voice, and the nondescript could find an identity? There is such a place. That place is called a blog.
Until I started blogging, I was all those people (except for one of the lonely). (Any similarity with the song Eleanor Rigby at this point is purely coincidental.) In the blogosphere, we are transformed. Our writing, and the connections we make from them, transforms us.
- In the blogosphere, we are respected.
As I explained in What No One Tells You About Blogging, I feel respected when I read my readers’ comments. Compliments like, “you’re a genius” and “thank you for your wisdom,” are validating.
- In the blogosphere, the lonely find companionship.
On one of the sites I was perusing, it explained that if bloggers who used the site had no one to talk to on Christmas, they could go to this certain website and all “be together”. Also, I know bloggers who feel loss, but their writing connects them with other bloggers and their audience and fills those voids.
- In the blogosphere, the silent find a voice.
I am planning an upcoming communications post about finding a voice. I have struggled to find one. I don’t think fast on my feet, and I consider my inability to make small talk one of my worst faults. Strangely, in contrast to when I speak, when I write, my words flow. A blogger I was communicating with recently described experiencing the same phenomena.
- In the blogosphere, the nondescript find an identity.
I joke that I am a “self-admitted coward”. Yet, readers, when reacting to my blog posts, have called me “courageous” and “real” in addition to “intelligent,” as I noted above.
From what I have experienced in the two short months since I’ve been blogging, I know that while these transformations in my magical world of the blogosphere may describe me, I am in good company, the company of bloggers I am grateful to have come in contact with. Happy New Year, everybody.