Whenever I’m having a bored moment, or a bummed moment, or a good-grief-things-are-insane-and-I-need-to-be-distracted moment, I open my RSS feed reader. On a good day, there will be one or two good posts, the kind that tell a story that gets me out of my own head for a moment or two.
More often than not, though, my feed is filled with sponsored posts and ten thousand unread recipes from 3-4 prolific cooking blogs.
I recently paid a relatively pretty penny to renew both my domain and hosting service. I almost let it lapse, and today, after receiving an urgent note that my domain had, in fact, expired, I coughed up the cash. And so, here we are. Most of my favorite blogs have sort of ended or signed off in a similar fashion. Usually, they’ve petered out before just disappearing. Often, some large life-force pushed the issue, but sometimes, I think it was just… done. They just didn’t want to keep telling their story, for one reason or another. Maybe it felt too personal, or too hard, or too… something.
I don’t really feel like telling my story at the moment, either. It doesn’t feel particularly interesting, on one hand. It feels like the same story everyone is living: get up; work; do the necessary things around the house so that you don’t live in squalor. On the other hand, it feels too dangerous: don’t write anything that you wouldn’t feel comfortable with your boss reading; don’t write anything that would infringe upon the privacy of your spouse/friends/kids; the list goes on.
The thing is, I open my RSS reader with the hope that someone, anyone, will have written a story. An actual, honest-to-goodness story, the kind we used to share all the time. Maybe it’s a story of a bad date, or the way dinner was a total flop. Maybe it’s the story of running into someone on the train that we hadn’t seen in a while. I don’t login looking for a specific story. I think I go looking for empathy, for the feeling that we get when we know someone else out there is willing to share something vulnerable with us.
I miss reading that, and I miss writing it, too. And I guess I feel like I can’t really complain about other people refusing to provide me with their stories. I have to write my own.
There’s nothing really to say beyond that. I’ve planned to write more here in the past, and it hasn’t happened. And maybe I’m just opening this up to type because I renewed all those services, and I feel like I shouldn’t be throwing my money away. (Though, let’s be real, the amount pales in comparison to what I’ve spent on unused gym memberships over the years.)