400

This is a crazy thing, but right now, you are reading the four-hundreth post to this blog.

A lot has happened over the past two and some years. A couple of jobs, a couple of apartments. Some downs, many ups.

It took a long time for people to start commenting, but today, when I had only approved a couple of comments over the past week, I realized that a lot of people respond to what I write here. That's nice, I like it.

I find the blog occasionally worrisome, like who the fuck cares about my family's socks, really. Why does it matter that I write any of this?

On our trip, Amy asked me if I ever had problems finding something to blog about. I laughed. There are days that I don't feel like blogging, yes. This week has been a surprising and sad week for me and I have felt more like either throwing a tantrum or curling up inside myself and hibernating till after the end times than writing.

But most days, I spend my time chunking off little bits of action into stories I think would be fun for you to read. Hardly any of them get written. Half the time I sit down in front of the computer and something entirely else comes out. It has changed my writing skills significantly and made me look at the world differently than I ever would have otherwise.

Why does blogging matter? I'm not sure that it does, in the end. If I stopped blogging today, there are a few people around who would miss the daily/weekly/occasional check-in and then after a while would forget I ever wrote anything down.

I think I would miss it, though, and terribly. Putting your happy times and shitty days out there and having a mostly silent audience hold you up out of it? I've come to enjoy that, very much.

Thank you, mostly silent audience.