My younger son thinks I should give up blogging. I had a conversation with him recently that went something like this:
Disapproving son: Daddy, does your blog make any money?
DS: Is it going to make any money?
DS: Will it make you famous?
DS: Daddy, why are you such a loser?
He’s right of course. He has the monochromatic clarity of a nine-year old. My aimless rambling to nobody in particular doesn’t seem to him like a good use of time. Instead he spends his spare time dreaming up secret plans to take over the world and install himself as ultimate dictator. I think he reads too much. Mind you, I did exactly the same when I was his age, but look where that got me. None of those plans ever worked out. Not even the one with the volcano hideout and the evil death ray. Ho hum.
Anyway, my son may be a misguided megalomaniac, but when it comes to my blog he has a certain amount of perspective. I have no perspective. My blog is like a delusion, or an addiction. I should stop, but I won’t.
My blogging has become a kind of emotional prop. I can talk to my blog and get things off my chest. Like a faithful pet, my blog is always there for me and it rarely answers back (and if I don’t want to hear any comments I can zap them with my evil death ray.)
So, despite the rational pleas of my son to cut this blogging crap and do something useful with my life, I can’t. I won’t.