The gift of the mundane

I was reluctant to start a blog, not only because I should spend less one-on-one time with my computer rather than more, but because the blogosphere is already saturated with "observations", "musings", and "random thoughts." Why would anyone want read mine?

My hesitation was also fueled by social comparison. I read a number of blogs, and a good percentage of them are written by people who are dealing with chronic and terminal illness. I started reading these blogs when I was investigating ideas for student projects for one of my classes. I thought that blogs would be engaging for students to read because, unlike memoirs, they're updated in real time and aren't completely retrospective accounts of experience. However, the thing that makes blogs appealing content for a student project (a lack of editing), also makes them difficult to read in a few sittings. The reverse chronological order, lack of background information about the author, and references to relationships, medical procedures, and inside jokes that are never described in full make them difficult to follow.

I still check in on these blogs once a week or so. I read about Liz, who writes about recovering from lung cancer and struggling with an unhealthy relationship. Brainy has ALS--I've read his posts as they've moved from optimistic descripitions of alternative treatments to anxious discussions of impending dependence on others to the now brief, ee cummings-like entries about the prospect of asphyxiation. Kate describes in arresting detail the guilt and pain she experiences over delivering twins early and the immense grief of losing one of them who never left the NICU. Tom has cancer and shares the change in his self-image from capable husband and father to deteriorating patient. Leanne, who was diagnosed with lymphoma when she was 20 weeks pregnant, writes about the terrible day when the pregnancy was terminated so she could have chemotherapy and radiation treatments, hopeful that she could continue to parent her three-year-old daughter.

These are people who are sharing their private experiences with tragedy and loss. And I'm writing about boots. Do you see the problem here?

However, a remarkable thing about these health-related blogs (that is not true of memoirs in book form) is that peppered among the reflections on self-concept, mortality, and life's meaning are posts about completely and utterly mundane topics. Liz writes about her red cowboy boots and her doberman named Superman. Brainy makes reference to sexual dreams about Senator Clinton. Kate asks for advice on how to lose the baby weight. Tom provides pictures of a vacation to Ireland. Leanne writes about her three-year-old daughter's latest adventures. These individuals are dealing with issues that most of us would expect to be all-consuming, yet these authors not only notice the ordinary events of life, but take the time to write about them. These are people who recognize that life is precious and fragile, and they choose to acknowledge the details that many people view as filler.

There is a somewhat popular saying that goes, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." I hate that saying. It promotes the idea that we should center our lives around those big moments and kill time through the rest of them. Of course, an alternative approach would be to make each moment a breathtaking one, but then we'd be breathless all the time, and that's no good either. Why not appreciate the non-breathtaking moments for what they are?

So, I'm pro "random thoughts, musings, and observations." I think blogging has encouraged people to do something enormously valuable--to ponder and celebrate the minutiae that make up most of the moments of our lives.

But enough of the serious talk. Back to the banal.