Posted by Tania Kindersley.
After my Andrew Sullivan link, here is your regular Friday post.
I've been thinking a bit lately about the nature of blogging. Actually, one of the oddest thing about starting a blog is that it does make you think about the whole enterprise quite a lot. A couple of the blogs I follow have been musing about what the point of it all is. I read a quote from one university professor who shuttered his blog because he said that you have to be happy and shiny and witty and clever the whole damn time, and no one can do that.
When I started this, I meant it as an extension to the book. Sarah and I were to muse on all matters relating to the modern female, and would put in all the stuff that we could not write in Backwards. In the end, for various reasons, it became my blog. At the beginning I wanted to do tap dances for you. I wanted to cover the waterfront: there would be food and feminism and politics and potent examinations of the zeitgeist. I wanted it also to be a conversation, and you have certainly kept up your end of the bargain; your comments have made the whole thing most unexpectedly delightful and stimulating.
In the end though, it has really become a most personal exercise. I can't quite work out if this is a good or bad thing. I am acutely aware of the solipsism trap. Yet at the same time, one of the things I love most about the blogosphere is the vivid glimpses into other lives. I like that warm human feeling you get when you read something from the other side of the world with which you utterly identify; the sigh of relief, the rueful laugh, the sense that you are not the only one. I love the small confessions of frailty or the what's it all about Alfie moments. I love the astonishing generosity, from both writers and readers.
I think the prof is right, in a way. I do want to give you my shinier, better self. There is an element of putting on one's Sunday best. I also feel a curious sense of responsibility: I now get actual guilt if I do not give you at least six posts a week. I think quite a lot about the balance of prose and pictures. I allow myself a little dog indulgence, which you very naughtily encourage, but am aware of the dangers of Going Too Far.
For some reason, I keep thinking of the lovely Donald Winnicott idea of the good enough mother. I do think there is a bit of a curse of perfection running around town at the moment, especially for the women. I have my own perfection genie, who sits on my shoulder and yells in my ear. But I wonder if the very point of blogging is that it is the very essence of the good enough. It does not have to be the most magnificent thing ever devised. As long as it is human and true and has a canine snapshot or two, perhaps that really is all right.
Here are your Friday pictures, which come, as always, with thanks for your lovely comments, and gratitude for the very fact that you take the time to come here and read. Today is a green symphony:
With some unadulterated beauty from the dog front:
Have a wonderful Friday.