Silence Will Fall

I’m not really writing anymore. I mean, I am writing, I’m just not writing anything that gets posted here. Half of what I write for here gets deleted on purpose before I ever complete the editing process, and half of what I’m going to write for here just…disappears, I guess, either because it’s not important or not funny or I decided that 140 characters or less worked better and I posted it on Twitter.

While there is still a part of me that feels bad about not writing here and that’s the part that overachieves and feels a bone-deep fear at the idea that people might think I’m lazy or not smart enough to come up with anything, I’m also kind of okay about it for a few reasons.

First, nobody even reads blogs anymore. Back when I was writing every day (and got bristly messages from friends and strangers alike if I didn’t), blogs were the thing. I don’t even think Twitter existed back when I started blogging. Even when I leapt from the MySpace platform (I told you it was a long time ago) to Blog City, blogs were still a big deal and I was generating and average of something like 1,600 original views a day. But sometime around Blog City’s shutdown and the move to WordPress, blogs stopped being a thing people did and started being a subject of ridicule. I mean, they were already a subject of ridicule a little bit, and in the ridiculers’ defense, blogs did morph from a daily diary of sorts for interesting, introspective people into a “here’s my yearlong project that I’m only doing to get a book deal” and/or “THEEEEEEEMES!” So I don’t blame anyone for viewing them derisively. Within the last few years, my views have gone from that 1,600 per day average to something like 60. And that’s fine, I know that’s actually a lot compared to old bones blogs like mine, but if I take a hard look at my stats, it’s almost all non-repeaters. Non-readers. People who find me by following absurd search terms and just as quickly disappear. All that’s left are my friends (who I’m always happy to see) and stalkers (less so).

Second, writing here has become a chore. It’s become a thing I have to work at doing. I’m not sure if I lost my voice or my priorities have shifted or, most likely, a combination of the two, but all those things I used to rail about don’t concern me much anymore, and even if they do, I’ve already railed about them. Finding time to rail about new things is surprisingly difficult for someone with no kids or real hobbies but who still has a job and pets and a relationship that she tries to maintain for those two days a week when she actually gets to see the person she’s been dating for nearly a decade.

Third, Twitter, you guys. Come on. You’re not allowed to make fun of Twitter anymore. All those things you think are funny on Facebook or Tumblr or Snapchat? They were stolen from Twitter. It’s not a minute-by-minute update of the life of the most boring person you know. It could be if you’re not willing to figure it out, but mostly, it’s full of incredibly witty and unbelievably crude people and like most things, according to our parents, you get out of it what you put into it. I’ve likened starting out on Twitter to screaming bad jokes into an empty room, but eventually, if you’re funny and can engage with people, it’s worth your time. But please stop retweeting corporate accounts. So lame.

So that’s mostly why I don’t plan on trying to keep up with this anymore, as half-assed as my trying has been lately. It feels like work when it never did before, and I can only write so many entries about weather and the bus before I start to hate myself (even more). I’m not shutting it down for good – I do have the domain name for about a year longer – but there may be a couple of weeks between posts at times. If you get bored, find me elsewhere. God knows there’s plenty of Internet out there that’s better than this.

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About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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