Why?

I sometimes ask myself why I write in order to blog.  In fact, my daughter asked me this only a few days ago.  I suppose the answer is that it makes me feel alive to express in words experiences that have occurred, or insights that come to me spontaneously without warning.  Whether you are dancing ballroom or playing tennis, you enjoy the moment, exhilarated by its immediacy. To relive the event by creating a written historical account allows one to savor the juices of the experience while creating a permanent record. 

Insights and epiphanies are another story. Mostly, these occur in the middle of the night, while asleep, unbeknownst to me. They take over my entire being as if I were possessed, with an inspiration that drives me from my bed to the keyboard the next morning before anything else.  The words flow from the tips of my fingers as if they were being controlled and dictated by some external power.

I love it when any reader enjoys my writings. I have a purpose for each of them, sometimes ill advised.  Some writings attempt at humor, and occasionally I dabble in a feeble attempt at poetry.  There is nowhere in my writing that I am intentionally hurtful or derogatory to other humans.  Indeed, I ruminate often over the choice of words, which sometimes are catchy and smart, but may be interpreted negatively by the reader. Ever reader takes home a different message from what they read.  Even an entirely positive account may be interpreted as the opposite.

My advise to myself is to make sure my writings go through several revisions before publishing.  Sometimes I breach my own advise and publish essays prematurely. Then I am no better than those who speak freely, saying whatever comes to their minds. Their mouths are free conduits. Their words are unedited and unfiltered. I know too many of these people. They are social misfits or even sociopaths. Their tirades are uncontrollable. They have an inability to filter their thoughts into more presentable and socially acceptable syntax. 

But I am human like everyone else, and sometimes the cat is let out of the bag.  At least most of the time, I take the time to revise the first draft invective that seems always to flow from my fingers, to a more suitable and balanced edition.  Sometimes I try to embed a subtle message. Sometimes I wish those reading my words would read between the lines.