The last few days haven’t been great in my head with the sound of silence and worry wafting through the corridors. I went to bed a few hours ago armed with episodes of Alistair Cooke’s Letters from America downloaded from the BBC website to block out the sound a bit, to hopefully fall asleep and wake up a bit chirpier on a Monday morning, but it clearly didn’t work as here I am writing this. Why am I writing this? Answer, see Graham Greene later on.
It is fascinating listening to these radio shows 40, 50, 60 yrs later and remembering that Alistair Cooke was broadcasting them during the Watergate scandal, or that his eye witness account of the Bobby Kennedy assassination had actually taken place not long before. In a way they are like historical blog posts except maybe more immediate than a blog because a voice is maybe more personal that font. Or maybe I’m just talking through my ass at this late hour.
Blogging can seem a bit of an embarrassment sometimes, so much self regard and thinking that the world actually wants to hear your thoughts!
All this drawing attention to yourself and your problems or thoughts!
Who are you to think that the world wants to hear your problems or thoughts?
I sort of sway between agreeing with those sentiments and disagreeing with those sentiments. Perhaps it really just comes down to personality and even the way that we’ve been created?
I don’t know how anyone can dig around in a mouth and take out a tooth, or how someone else has the ability to think on their feet in a classroom, or to keep law and order on our streets but I’m glad there are people who aren’t like me out there and can do that stuff.
I don’t know how their brain works like that but I admire it and wish I was a bit more like that.
On the other hand perhaps there is a place for someone writing something like this no matter how self absorbed it is or nor matter if it is adding more babble to a world of babble? I’m not saying that I’m a writer, as in a skilled writer, but I’m writing this while people out there would have no desire to write anything. So maybe that makes me a writer.
Perhaps private thoughts aren’t made to be publicized to a world wide audience but then if that’s the case we may forget about a pile of the Psalms. All those personal Psalms of David. Or those Paul’s letter to Timothy.
Maybe it’s more a case of being asked by someone else to give your personal thoughts on a given subject such as the BBC asking Alistair Cooke to write a letter from America each week. Except that I think he approached the BBC.
Perhaps people who blog are naturally self absorbed?
Maybe they have an ego problem and want the world to pay attention to their point of view and arrogantly think that people need to hear that point of view?
I don’t know. Well, actually I do know. We’re all self absorbed whether you’re pottering about minding your own business or letting it all hang out on the www.
For me personally it feels more like what Graham Greene has written at the start of ‘A Sort of Life’. It’s a desire to try and bring some type of order to a chaos of experience. And yes, probably self-absorption.
‘..in the course of sixty-six years I have spent almost as much time with imaginary characters as with real men and women. Indeed, though I have been fortunate in the number of my friends, I can remember no anecdotes of the famous or the notorious – the only stories which I faintly remember are the stories I have written.
And the motive for recording these scraps of the past? It is much the same motive that has made me a novelist: a desire to reduce a chaos of experience to some sort of order, and hungry curiosity.‘