A big, fat chicken. Bwaaaak! And as important food is to me as a self proclaimed foodie, if you are what you eat, I don’t even really LIKE chicken – I tolerate it. So being chicken is unacceptable on so many levels.
I’ve been (almost obsessively) reading blogs for a little over two years. Without my daily blog dose, I feel incomplete. I’ve sent links to blogs to friends the moment they sign on-line, insisting they check out this latest post. I’ve spammed other friends with restaurant reviews from my favorite and trusted blogs, often unrealistically (but very typically me) insisting we try out the restaurant immediately. I’ve read about how people’s lifelong friends were made through blogging. More recently through a friend’s unbelievable ordeal , I’ve seen the incredible support network a blog can cultivate.
So I have every reason to blog. There are LISTS upon lists upon lists of reasons to blog. I WANT to blog. Except I’m scared. And with so many reasons why some people’s blogs suck, maybe my fear isn’t unwarranted.
What if my life, I mean I, am just not interesting enough? What subject do I have enough credibility in to even write a blog each day? Will my blog even make it to people’s Google Reader? Will I be able to write eloquently enough to give people that jumpy excitement feeling when they see that I’ve updated that I get myself when one of my feeds is updated?
Recently, I’m working on me. So I’m doing this for me. I’m getting out of a rut, which also means pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I’m not longer settling for being something that I just tolerate eating (can I be a French Laundry dinner now?). Time to dive headfirst (or getting pushed). Here goes nothing; we’ll see where this goes.
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