I am not yet certain that I am a blogger. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not, but I am going to give it a shot. I have kept a daily journal since I was twelve years old, and I am also contemplating the place of that habit in my life. One major advantage that journaling (by which I mean writing by hand in a smallish codex) has for me is that I prefer the act of writing by hand on a piece of paper, as well as reading off of a surface other than a computer screen. (I also love to write proper, snail-mail letters.) Writing in my journal every night is a mechanism by which I decompress after a day spent in being "on," a time to calm myself enough that I'll be able to lie down and sleep. I do not always reflect very profoundly on my experiences and thoughts, and a good deal of the benefit seems to lie in the dedication of that time as quiet and private. I sometimes use my old journals as ways of fixing dates and events, but another benefit I've seen myself really embracing in the last couple of years is the chance to plan my life a little bit. Sometimes (quite often, in truth), this involves writing out a list of things to be done the next day and thinking about logistics and the ordering of that list. I also record longer-term plans in various formats, and I think that, for me, this is part of that decompression, being able to lie down with a quiet mind. I am comfortable altering plans, but I always find that I prefer to alter, even drop, plans and think on my feet *after* I've considered things and established priorities, rather than to simply improvise with no sense of what is most important to me or where I'm ultimately trying to get to. So, this aspect of my journal time has become important, almost eclipsing the more obvious purpose of reflecting on what has already passed.
So, where does a blog fit into all this? If it has any purpose for me, then that purpose must surely involve the opportunity to think through ideas in a forum where I must be ready to receive feedback. Even if no one ever reads any post on this blog, I will think differently about the coherence of my thoughts than I tend to in my journal. For me, that will be useful, in of itself, because I struggle to produce whole, readable drafts of, well, anything: chapters, articles, you name it. I hope that I am getting better at very, very short pieces, like abstracts, but even then, my record of acceptance is not stellar.
Another benefit of a blog is the potential for a sense of communal participation. I have, only partly through neglect and rather more than that through conscious choice, come through grad school without using a carrel at all. This means that I am always sitting in some public place or other on campus, every day. So, I do see people, even good friends, on a regular basis, but there is another kind of isolation that sets in once you begin working towards the qualifying exam and then the dissertation completion. Intellectual isolation, if you will. I struggle with the loss of the chance to talk through (or listen to others talk through) readings and ideas, as I had in seminars. Part of this is related to the reasons I find it so difficult to write complete pieces: I process things more in terms of wide-ranging, instinctively formed connections, not generally as logical threads that can be followed. Or perhaps it's like the grandmother Irene's thread in The Princess and the Goblin, which does not always seem to be leading to where it's going - for I usually manage to get there eventually, but, my word, it's painful. (I am not suggesting that no one else struggles with this, but I will not presume to speak beyond my own experience.) So, conversation allows me to do quite a bit of following (even if much of it is embarrassingly inarticulate) without having to have already imposed essay-style order on anything I'm thinking about.
Another reason that I struggle with this loss is simply the feeling of isolation. Suddenly, there is no built-in chance to talk about what I'm doing, to just be another person who's reacting to texts ("texts" used broadly to cover just about anything), and feeling and thinking like a human being. I love my committee, three fantastically talented scholars who are all assertive and opinionated, but I feel like I have to be really stuck before it's okay for me to go to one of them and say, "Here's this thing I've been thinking about, and I wonder if we could talk it through for a bit here." You can imagine how often I'm willing to impose like that. It just kills me, wishing I had an excuse to make an appointment, just to chat about intellectually interesting things. So, perhaps this blog will allow me to feel that I can still engage with others before I have to present my polished arguments for assessment. (Does anyone else find that by the time you get your ideas down in some kind of finalized form, you are no longer sure, if you were even sure to begin with, whether or not you believe them? I am fearful that this sensation will endure throughout my entire career.)
All right, I've convinced myself to at least try another post or two. Future topics: how the Truth of the universe lies in distance running, the need for disciplinary multilingualism, and why medievalists should do math, too.
EDIT: Another probable future topic: Why I fear that a blog encourages a narcissism I need no help cultivating.
