tell your story

first, i must start off by saying how much i love the word, blog, and all its forms...blogger, blogging, blogster, etc. i find myself going out of my way to use it in a sentence...it ranks up there with knob, argh, trabajaba and hablabamos. i think i have a word fetish.

what is the point of all of this? really...why do we blog? [n. an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a web page] why do we read blogs? why do i make tangible my words and thoughts only to send them out into the black internet abyss?

some people blog for attention, it has become an addiction for others.
a blogger's [n. an author of an online chronology of thoughts] reason to write should be because they have something to share other people want to hear. their incentive is the steadily climbing counter in the sidebar [n. one or more columns along one or both sides of most blogs main page] it slowly counts hits and assures that even if a blurker [n. one who reads many blogs but leaves no evidence of themselves] strikes, somebody is reading.
somebody is listening.
somebody wants to know what i have to say.
somebody wants to know me.
there is some truth to this motivation.
but i must say, even if the counter read "0,000" i would still write.
i blog for another reason.

if you've never heard the voice of God, you'll more than likely roll your eyes at this. but for those of you who have, you will testify to its wonder. He rarely speaks with a loud, thunderous boom or an audible sound. there are no fireworks or beams of light from parting clouds. He whispers in your ear, in your thoughts. part of you wants to believe you made it up, but you can't. you know what you heard wasn't from you. i guarantee He's spoken to you; His voice was more than likely lost in the distractions.

it was the beginning of july and i was enjoying the stillness of the evening on a run. i wish i could say i run for exercise because then i might push myself harder and actually enjoy the benefit of physical training. but i running is my therapy. i pound out my frustrations and struggles with each mile i go, each step i take. it's during this time i find myself most at peace. quiet enough to listen, still enough to hear. if i hear His voice, usually, it's on one of my runs. i heard Him on this run.

there i was, throwing it down on the pavement, laying it out,
"why me? why this? what am i to do now?"
"tell your story," He said.
"tell my what?"
"tell your story," i heard again.
"what's my story and how am i supposed to tell it? i don't have anything i would want to share and if i did, nobody else would want to hear it."
"tell your story"
*a mile later*
"argh. [argh: adj. frustrated, exasperated...i made this one up]
i don't understand...but i'll do it...it makes no sense...but i'll tell it."

so i started consistantly blogging [v. the act of writing in one's blog]. i can't write a book, i don't know how to publish articles. but i can blog. sometimes i feel like it, a lot of times i don't. sometimes i have one hundred things to post [n. a dated entry within a blog] about but often nothing at all. i don't know for what reason, for who, or why... but i write.

i remember when i was first introduced to the world of design and i began to see things through lenses of space, rhythm, and order. there was a reason for the way everything was done and i wanted to uncover why. blogging has opened a new world to me through writing. i look for a tale in the every day and ordinary, wondering if i can make something interesting out of my trip to wal-mart or dinner last night. it allows me to step back from my own life and look it from a different perspective; outside looking in. i can see things i normally wouldn't.
it has been therapy in and of itself. this is good; it's too cold to run.

we all have stories. we all come with experiences and memories, knowledge and battle wounds from living our stories. i look around at people and wonder about their journey. do they have someone to tell them to at the end of the day? perhaps they just tuck them away and forget them in the days and years which quickly pass. i don't want their story to be lost. i want them to know that it matters even when they can't understand how. sometimes i think i want to spend my life just listening to other people share their stories and then re-telling it in a way for others to hear. perhaps. but for now, i'll just work on my own.

i've thought a lot about this meta-blog [n. an post about blogging] for the past couple days and now that it's written, it seems rather silly.
but i guess that's not the point; it shouldn't matter.
"tell your story," He said. so i will.

p.s. there a crazy blogosphere [n. blogs as a social network] out there who actually have entire sites devoted to blogging and it related terms.
yikes!