Recently I read an essay on the dangers of blogging. The writer, not herself a blogger, complained that no one ever told her anything any more, since they assumed she had read it on their blogs. The other side of that coin is the danger of telling someone something, assuming that they do not read your blog, only to bore them silly because they did already read it. There is also the danger of feeling that, since you read the person’s blog regularly, you are in touch with them, and never actually calling them or visiting them any more. And the danger of failing to communicate with people because — if they wanted to — they could read your blog and thereby know what you’re up to.

I first encountered blogging in the form of #2 daughter’s blog, which I read every day. I also read all the comments — I mean, I even go back after I have already read and commented, to see what other commenters have said. This leads me to another of the dangers of blogging — excessive time spent on it — because I then find myself clicking on the commenters and reading their blogs, and the blogs of their commenters.

It happens that my daughter and most of her commenters actually know one another in real life. So reading their blogs gives multiple perspectives on real-world events. It begins to exercise a certain fascination. Although I have never watched soap operas, I imagine the appeal of a soap opera would be like that. You want to find out what so-and-so did when so-and-so did such-and-such.

In a way, this is good. It allows me to keep up with #2 daughter’s stories much better. She doesn’t believe in telling stories in chronological order, and all the people she knows seem to have roughly the same names. So her stories go like this: “Well, Keith is in big trouble now.” “Oh, is that Keith from your math class?” “No, it’s Keith who was dating Ashley, but then I saw him at the bonfire.” “What bonfire?” “Well, it was the one where Ashley — the other Ashley, the one who Keith gave all those mice to — saw the ghost, except Ashley doesn’t think she really did. But all that was before the explosion, which is what I was trying to tell you about.” “What explosion?” “Well, it was at rehearsal — did I tell you I have a solo? It was going to be a duet with Ashley, but not the Ashley who was shipwrecked, except that then she decided to do a duet with Keith instead. So I have a solo, but Dr. X is going to have Keith do it even though he has pitch problems.” “Is that why Keith is in trouble?” “Not that Keith.” 

So, now that I am able to drop in and spy on these people at their xangas, it is easier for me to keep them clear in my mind.

On the other hand, with keeping up with those blogs, and reading the knitting blogs, and also the blogs in the blogring and all my subscriptions, it is difficult to get the housework done. Not to mention knitting. Which I sometimes don’t.