Ask the Little Bald Bastard

While I'm handing them out...
  Decently sized ups to me, for persisting in keeping my Blog fresh. At some point, updating went from being a dreaded chore to being an obligation. I know is sounds like a minor difference, but it matters. I used to sit and stare at the screen, not being able to come up with anything beyond a laundry list of the things I'd done that day, or a litany of things I hated. I discouraged easily, and I would avoid updating altogether because it was so tedious. Now, the new, improved Blogging me starts to feel guilty if I don't update every few days. I know that my girlfriend is just about the only one who reads this stuff on a regular basis, and I have a small (but hearty) cadre of friends who check in from time to time. I suppose it would make more sense to just email them all, instead of wasting bandwidth and BlogSpot server space. Still, there's something more... vital? Interactive? I don't know the exact word. (I know, bad writer, find the word.) There is some deeper sense of pride, a feeling like, "I made this, look at me! I can do a cannonball, Mom! Watch me! No, watch. Don't just say you're watching and then glance back at that trashy paperback, WATCH ME!!! No, wait. Now I'm too scared. Don't look." You know, that sort of pride/tension that you get when you're taking a risk, however miniscule, of looking stupid.
  That's right, stupid. For all I know, my Blog could be the Dude, Where's My Car? of your Internet experience. By posting this stuff here, I'm taking the risk that you're tuning in just to laugh at me. I'm exposing myself to ridicule and praise in (I hope) at least equal measure. The truth is, I think I'm a decent writer. Sure, I often go back and look at my stuff and find eleventy-billion things I could have done better, but on the whole it's marginally better than crap. But sharing it means that I have to risk the chance that you disagree.
  Strangely, I find myself becoming less scared of that as I go along. I'm certain that it has a great deal to do with living with someone who writes pretty prolifically. My girlfriend is writing a hilarious play, as well as maintaining an online journal. She's as sensitive as any of us to criticism. In fact, she gets pretty upset when I can't silence my inner editor long enough to praise her early drafts. But, despite that anxiety, she keeps writing because she loves it. She gets a kick out of finding characters and a story and bringing them to life. She persists, despite her fear, and I thank whatever that she does, because it helps me want to do the same. I haven't gotten any farther than updating my journal because I know she reads it, and cracking out a short story with characters she created, but it's building. I hope she knows that she's inspiring me, and that I am slightly in awe of her ability to work through writer's nerves. I hope that the things I produce do her talent, persistence and courage justice.