It’s 4:30 a.m. and I can’t sleep. You understand this feeling, fellow travelers, like sometimes the only place we can go is to the blogosphere. There’s nothing nagging me … well … not really. I come here because I can’t sleep and I need a good story.
Here, I can enjoy your stories, the honest, slice-of-life stories written by everyday people—imaginative, creative, passionate, bizarre, mad-as-hell, I'm-too-fat, I'm-too-thin, look-at-my-baby people. You don't need a book contract to construct an interesting blog post. For a space so immense, it feels very local. Yet this is a shared space where we tend to say the things we wouldn’t say to a loved one, friend, or coworker.
What is it about the blogosphere that keeps us coming back? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: we read it for the “unsaid.” Every time I post something, the subtext is saying, “I don’t know you, but here I am and I’m sharing this piece of my life with you. Please read.” And the writing. Let’s not forget the good writing that makes me, as a reader, care about the small stuff: a list of songs from your iPod; mourning the end of a season; mourning the loss of a friend; how you’d sometimes like to run away from home—and the places you’d end up. We can forgive the typos and the poorly constructed sentences for a good story. I don’t come here for a lesson in grammar.
Tonight … eh … today, I come here because I can’t sleep—and all that’s on is Death Wish II and an ungodly amount of infomercials. I come here with this need to reveal something about myself, maybe because I spend every waking part of my day keeping something for myself. Now, I come because of Sunday Scribblings: this wonderful community of bloggers that has something to say about being a fellow traveler. I can’t wait to read your stories.