Love them. Hate them. Tolerate them.
Yes. That's where I'm at.
They're good. I enjoy how they keep me connected to certain people. I love how often I can discover something new through them. I love blogs that show creative things. I love how mine keeps me on track writing.
They're awful. I hate how they are used as just one long whine about life. I hate how some people use theirs as a laundry list of every detail of their lives from when I found the moldy noodles in the back of the fridge to wow the baby went pee pee in the baby potty! I hate how they make me feel stupid when I read someone else's creativity that far outstretches mine. I hate how mine guilt me into writing.
I tolerate some blogs because they are more like that train wreck you saw coming but couldn't pull your eyes away from it before the bodies started falling out all over the road. I tolerate mine on nights like tonight. It's been a long challenging day. I'm tired. Vodka in my glass. Hands numb from a long day at the keys, eyes strained, brain done. No creative thoughts. At. All.
There are people that blog, that sincerely, I wish they wouldn't. For their sake and for ours.
There are other people that I secretly wish had a blog, because I'd love to read what they would write.
On a night like tonight, blogs simply interrupt my before bed napping.