Why I Do This

A few weeks ago, someone asked me why I decided to start a blog, and I couldn't come up with a very good answer. "Because everyone else was doing it" sounds rather lame, on top of being completely not true. In fact, I resisted blogging for quite a while because I didn't want to do it just because I thought I needed to in order to fit in. And it's definitely not because I lead a thrilling life that I know everyone wants to read about. In fact, I'm one of the most boring people I know.

Now I think I've figured it out. I blog for the same reason I still dance in my living room and sing in my car: I have something inside of me that needs to get out. I think every creative person—musician, dancer, writer, whatever—feels that way. Since before I can even remember, I was dancing to music sometimes only I could hear and telling stories to myself and making up songs in my head. And as exciting as that is for me, my choreography has rarely left my living room and, other than a few exceptions, my stories have never been put down on paper. But now there's something of me, something that wouldn't have existed if I hadn't made it exist, that will still be here tomorrow even if I'm not. I don't really care that there are only about four people who read my blog, although it is fun to know that somebody does. There's not a real chance anymore that I'll dance on Broadway or become a rock star. Hopefully some of my stories will finally get out of my head, but even if they don't, my blog serves as some kind of record that I existed—and more than that, that I loved life and tried my best to live it.