Yesterday afternoon I went to see Julie & Julia. I went by myself, which is my preference. Years of waiting tables at night afforded me the luxury of solo matinees for years… in fact I was so spoiled by it that actually hate going to crowded movies at night. I still love to steal away in the middle of the day, it just rarely happens these days since a trip to the movies is a 50 mile round trip.
With the release of this movie there has been a lot of discussion online about the reasons people blog. Some people blog in hopes of being discovered by a literary agent or publisher and landing a fat book deal. Others blog about specific subjects and somehow become regarded as experts in the field. Some may actually have the expertise to back it, some just some experiences to share and a voice that makes people listen. Artists, designers and stylists blog because it's a super user friendly way to show their work instead of a website.
Why do I blog?
Mine is a more personal reason. I started blogging to share my life with the women in my family… most importantly my mother who I met when I was 39. Long story short… my sister and I were reunited with our mother who had put us up for adoption when I was 8 and she was 5. We had spent the three years prior to adoption with an amazing foster family, with whom we have always remained in contact. So really we had not seen my mother since I was 5, and my sister was 2. When my sister found her, we traveled to New Jersey to visit her for a week. My sister and I knew she'd been a musician and artist (my parents were folk musicians in the 60's… I was born in '65, my sister in '67). We discovered that she had been a weaver. This struck a chord with me as I had always been drawn to fibers and had no idea why. My sister shares our mother's love and talent for photography. I taught myself to knit as soon as I could. I really do knit every day, my hands crave it, my mind and spirit are recharged by it. If you're a knitter… you know exactly what I mean. I believe I am tapping into some genetic memory every time I pick up my needles and yarn to knit.
This October will be the second anniversary of Toni's passing away. We discovered she had cancer 3 years to the day we were reunited.
I won't go into much more detail because this story belongs to my sister as much as it belongs to me, and I mention it only to shed a little light on why it was so important for me to embark on, it seemed to me, the ultimate narcissistic task of taking pictures of my dogs, the paint choices on my very own kitchen wall, what was for dinner, and what I was knitting and post them online… I mean who really gives a shit if I finally finished my alpaca shawl and that after a long crappy day only the comfort of a simple roast chicken and mashed potatoes would make me feel loved? I can name three people who do. Today I realize the real reason I started blogging was to show Toni that I have a good life, I am happy, I have a wonderful husband, dogs and a cat I adore, and I am creating stuff all the time, that her decision did not destroy our lives… and I pray every day that it did not destroy hers.
5 thoughts on “Raison pour laquelle je blogue”
Oh my, very touching. I’m sure you did bring her joy. Thanks for sharing this beautiful story. Add a reason for blogging the details: a reminder to others (like me) to be more aware of the daily joys of life. Thank you.
That’s fascinating about your mom. It’s a wonder the way we’re drawn to things and we don’t know why. But it’s in our blood I suppose. And for what it’s worth, I care that you finished your alpaca shawl. 🙂
surprise surprise … you made me cry … love you
I was going through the last of Toni’s things over the weekend in preparation for the move. Yesterday (Sunday) I set aside a box of her weavings that I thought you might want to have. Funny that you posted this on the same day …
I had a ‘secret’ blog for quite a while. I have my mom and my sisters around me, but needed to connect with the generous on-line knitting community. I inherited my estranged father’s musical talent and it makes me cry to hear my son play jazz piano with the same long fingers that I only saw once when I was 10. Thanks for the clarity of your experience.