i’ve made myself sick to my stomach again. a more mentally-induced nausea than anything organic (although, i’m sure the huge antibiotics i’ve been on for a week don’t help much). the only virus in me is the one i choose to think of, dwell on, and allow to trample across the garden of my daydreaminess.

borderline obsessive since my prepubescent days, occasionally one of the million thoughts which fly through my mind on any given day will stick like an unsuspecting bug in the web of a hungry spider. there it remains until it is set free by a samaritan-minded passerby (with a propensity for insect life) or until it’s eaten alive by its eight-legged captor.

throughout history, mankind has attempted to train the mind, capture thoughts, to which success and progress follow. maybe i’m a bit unconventional, but in some way i enjoy twisting and turning in the threads until the last possible moment of escape. not in a gluttonous way, but to appreciate the struggle. to feel suffocated that much longer.

So a few posts ago, I asked for your thoughts on blogging and a lot of you replied to some extent, “It’s what you make it to be.”

Honestly, I don’t know what I want this blog “to be.” A journal? A forum for asking questions and getting people to think and share their opinions? Something to put my design/writing examples on? I don’t know.

So, I am going to be taking a hiatus from posting anything until I can answer that. Can a blog simply be? I’m sure it can. But I’m the kind of girl who lives and thrives in the black and whites, not the greys.

Thanks for reading. Always feel free to email me or comment in the meantime.

I’ve always read about this happening but have never had it happen until now. Five thoughtful paragraphs of blogging goodness gone. Disappeared before my very eyes. Dang. Here’s the abbreviated version.

Chris and I were talking last night about blogging. How even though we can be so real and authentic in what we write, or the manner we write, we still type every word, able to censor in even the most minute, unrecognizable ways. That no matter how hard we strive to be “Me…this is really me” that we aren’t. This is simply a one-dimensional portal for communication.

So, to prove this theory in my case, here is the blogging me.

I’m artsy and creative and I have a very particular rhythm to the way I write. I photoshop practically every photo of myself that you will ever see online. I have a place in my heart for women who struggle with addictions, sexual or otherwise, and since I grew up a PK, I have a passion for seeing the church as Christ sees it, and my heart breaks over the imperfections we so frequently complain about yet seldomly try to improve. I love traveling, and culture, and I’m a little frail since I’ve been sick a few times over the last year. I like girly things like shopping and chocolate and like most people in this same demographic, I was a huge coffee drinker, yet am now beginning to jump on the early-adopter bandwagon of tea drinkers. Always ahead of the curve.

So…are all those things true? Absolutely. I ain’t frontin’ there. But, that is all most of you – 99% of you – will ever see or know. Because that’s all I’ll ever let you see or know. Maybe subconciously, maybe not. But the truth of the matter is I hold the keys to what impression you’ll make of me.

Is blogging a new form of community? Yes. Is it valid? No doubt. Has it been an important part of my life the last few years? Absolutely. But is it everything we make it to be?

I’m not so sure.

Your thoughts?