87. Why I Don’t Blog Very Often

I like to think, to ponder, to ruminate. I question if my brain works similar (similarly?) to others of my generation. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. I grew up in a time that is different from now. Duh, that’s nothing new. Of course things change over time. Let me give you a few examples: Only beautiful people with agents were models. We had to dress up to go out. We hid our baby bumps under giant tent-like dresses. Displaying emotions was immature and embarrassing. Basically, we did our best to present a presentable self to the public. What we read and viewed in the media was carefully scripted by professionals who knew what they were doing. Those “experts” had socially agreed upon and hard earned credentials. Only the cream rose to the top of the jug. In publishing, writers held college degrees and had layers of editorial hoops to jump through before arriving at the printed page. So this is why I don’t blog very much: Who do I think I am, a mere plebe, with my amateurish writing?

Nowadays anyone can publish anything. For free. I’m not saying one generation’s m.o. is better than the other. I think it’s healthier now to see realistic body images and emotions displayed in the media. I’m glad that kind of social pressure is off. What I am saying is that because I’m a product of that other generation, I tend to give more credibility to others than what might be deserved. For example, I assume the YouTube “doctor” is really a board-certified physician. And I assume the facts of the articles I read have been fact checked. How does fact checking work anyhow? Is it an intern tapping away at a keyboard to sift through the internet? In my generation, I imagined it was a solemn meeting of great minds flicking the cigarette ash off their thin black ties in a windowless board room as they passed those facts around the table to review. Only those facts that made the cut were seen by us readers. I’m sure that wasn’t the case, but that’s my naive perspective.

So all that to say, I second guess myself all the time. I compare myself to my betters when blogging, in which I always come up short. And I think about you, the reader. I shouldn’t be wasting your precious time with self-centered dribble like this. You could be reading Jane Austen, or Louisa May Alcott, or even Gore Vidal instead.

I appreciate you for visiting with me here. The reason I continue writing is because of the fact that I enjoy the (so-called, please forgive me) “dribble” from other bloggers. I love hearing about their very ordinary days and seeing what delights are happening in their necks of the woods. In true fact, it isn’t dribble at all, it’s the little things that add up to a life lived.

Enough of this. I’m still reading through the Bible, the Bible Sampler quilt continues on, and is slowly becoming my oldest UFO. Thank you for bearing with me. I’ve just completed reading the book of Hebrews. Maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking about this issue of having the proper credentials in order to expect others to listen and believe what one has to say.

It is because we don’t know who wrote Hebrews. This epistle seems to be cobbled together without a central theme. It might’ve been a collation from multiple writers, and some say it contradicts Apostle Paul’s epistles. It almost didn’t make the cut into the Bible at all. So here we go again, examining the authority of an unknown author.

But I found a central theme as I read, which is that Jesus proved Himself time and time again to be the ultimate high priest of both Heaven and Earth. He alone had the authority to sweep out the old covenant and institute the new one. The book of Hebrews took us through the ages, from generation to generation, in a fact-checking exercise. Jesus always came out as the answer, the source, the reason for our faith in Him.

And since Jesus is the only one who has that authority, I’m believing every word He says.