Recently, I’ve been finding new bloggers on WordPress. I wanted to share an entry I’d written in September.
Over the years, on WordPress, people have come and gone, shared lives and left, left old blogs to pursue new ones. They continue on with their lives, maybe updating with the occasional life update, but most often not. Sometimes blogs I’d followed closely, developed near friendships with, would be closed after years. It’d be strange, because we technically never knew each other. I never knew what they looked or sounded like and they never knew what I looked like or sounded like. All we left behind was a consistent, constant bread trail of likes and some comments. Maybe we emailed each other. Or, in a rare instance, followed each other on Instagram. (One of my favorite WordPress bloggers once emailed me: hi, I know this is very weird, but I feel like we know each other, here’s my Instagram handle)
Despite the semi-anonymity, the ease of coming and going, there still existed a tenuous connection, one that might not have ever existed in “real life,” too limited by judgement and circumstance and geography.
Nowadays, there are a handful of people I can think of who blog regularly about their lives. I find myself looking forward to their posts, eager to hear about the latest flu shot or how they never heard back from the job or how they are tensely waiting to see if their family will have them move middle schools. I root for them. I feel genuinely excited when a blogger, who started off 10 years ago as an avid gamer, is now expecting. I am sympathetic when someone has finally walked away from that toxic relationship, and is now picking up the pieces of codependency. I marvel at stories of people’s pets, lunches, friendships. And I wonder out loud about them to le beau. I live an extraordinarily boring life, which I try and eek out to the fullest. But I also live vicariously through other bloggers’ daily details.
On a similar note, sometimes I feel guilty for not writing about Expansive, General things. I feel like I’m supposed to write about Soup Kitchens or natural disasters or Large Truths about the World. And it’s not that I don’t care, I just don’t want to blog about it. It feels contrived and obligatory. But then I think of the many lives I read about, the people I follow on here, and how they don’t extend themselves to write about Grand Important things. They talk about blueberries for breakfast, picking up their kid from school, hating their job, all of which I thoroughly enjoy hearing about. Then, for a moment, I feel a little relieved, like oh, okay, so we can talk about small things particular to us and share that and that’s fine. In fact, that’s more than fine. That’s what makes it fun. For me, at least.
The community and connections, however fleeting, bridging all of our voices. The blogosphere we inhabit, we pollute with details of our lives, like tendrils. It’s like the song in Toy Story: you’ve got a friend in me, but you’ve got a blogger in me instead.
coolpeppermint 
Anonymity can be used for good, I think that’s how we find the good ones, who have nothing to gain but a new connection. It’s the purest form of communication, I think, because we are not clouded by life circumstance or appearance. And I did not know simply reading a strangers blog post could make me smile and feel less alone so thank you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Agreed. I think WordPress is one of the few places online where anonymous people can run amok and be nice to each other. But then it also seems more sincere. Thanks for the read 🙂 Your last line made my heart smile!!
LikeLiked by 3 people
This is probably the best description I’ve read about connecting and the habit of building blogsites.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I have found such acceptance, understanding and connection here that can be difficult to come by in real life.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s the clear advantage of a community with intellect as the central value within.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That last line made my face smile! 😊 I’ve met some awesome human beings here and they have helped me tremendously along my journey, supporting me from afar. WordPress keeps my hope alive, whereas other anonymous social media outlets (*cough*REDDIT*cough*) can steal it away within minutes of scrolling and being hit with nothing but snark and ugliness. I come here and find strangers encouraging strangers, saying kind things for no reason other than because they MEAN it. Makes my soul happy, happy 😊
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’d like to think that we’ll forever be friends and see each other one day. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Agreed 🙂 I can’t believe it’s been… 5 years? since we first connected on WordPress!
LikeLike
Yeas, I love this very much! In fact, when I closed down my old account and started my new one (fresh starts and all that) I was happy to start anew, but I love reading your posts so much that I knew I wanted to connect with you under my new site as well ❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I’m glad you did!! I’ve loved following your blog(s) and journey and it’s all so cool, being interconnected in this world of WordPress. I was super excited when I saw your new blog 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a beautiful entry. I myself feel sad when bloggers leave the platform, but I’m hoping to find new people to follow. I enjoy reading bits and pieces of other people’s lives too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like the way you put it. I haven’t been blogging so long, but I can tell that it is very likely to become closer to those from afar. You’ve described it beautifully.
LikeLiked by 1 person
In my experience, blogging friends can become real friends in every sense. Many thanks for following my blog, which is greatly appreciated.
Best wishes from England, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for visiting, Pete! They can indeed become real friends 🙂 I still remember my blogging friends from years ago.
LikeLiked by 1 person