Blogging and Blobbing


I have jumped on the bandwagon. I am going to be a blogger.

What even is a “blog?” Whenever I hear the word “blob” I cannot help but to think of summer camp where each camper was catapulted into the water via a gigantic inflatable pillow-thing called “the Blob.” I was deathly afraid of “the Blob” and I am deathly afraid of “blogging.” Coincidence? Maybe.

Do not get me wrong. With the exception of the oh-way-too-much-information blogger or any thirteen year old blogger, I think blogging is great. I love reading my housemates’ blogs. They are witty, deep, and captivating. Through reading their thoughts I get to see a whole new side of them….I get to see my housemates monologue. Its uninterrupted, random conversations with themselves and I am simply an audience member.

You see, the problem is I do not know how I feel about an unengaged audience. In person, I can try to read the non-verbal cues. Do they agree? Are they interested? Should we switch topics?  Do you think I am off my rocker?

When I am blogging, I cannot dodge around a person’s disagreement or bask in their total delight in my thoughts. They are just going to be out there. On a screen. On the world wide web. And if someone does read this blog, they might think “Hey, I would have not done in that way” or “Comma error. Again.”

My dear two housemates, who have been dedicated to the creation of this blog, have told me THAT is the point. The blog is what you make it. You decide on the font, the picture, the amount of posting, and the use of emotion-cons. You can have a more serious blog or a goofy blog. It is not about pleasing others or keeping up with the Jones’ blog. You decide for yourself.

Essentially, you need to find your voice.

So, here I am finding my voice. Though I am already questioning if the first post being about “to blog or not to blog” is too cliché, I am thankful this site it up and running. Because when it comes down to it, blogging will give me a chance to stay in my own shoes for awhile (and maybe even amuse my housemates in the process).

P.S. Below is a picture of a “blob” for those not scarred by the aquatic life involved in summer camps.


About Kate

I remember the first time I heard it. A lanky fourteen-year-old that had grown legs, but not an identity, hugging the cold hardwood floor on a hot summer day. The black plastic radio blared the hits today and yesterday. I rested my eyes, trying to push away the heat. I do not remember the songs that proceeded or followed it, but I do remember the grin that broke out when I heard "...she checks out Mozart while she does Taebo." As cliche as it sounds, my young teenage heart found hope in the confident uniqueness of Train's "Drops of Jupiter" mystery woman. I wanted to be her. Well, maybe not her, but someone who lived authentically even if it was slightly puzzling others. I hated the idea of being inconsistant, but her contradictions were not inconsistency, but rather her journey to connecting the very different parts of her life together. They made sense, because she was her. And it even inspired others to question and develop..."reminds me that there is room to grow." Since then, I have been "tracing my ways through the constellations" on a sort of "soul vacation." I have been met and surrounded by a Divine Light, whose love, truth, and justice has pierced the darkness. The drops of Jupiter in my hair are cherish friends, big questions, and unexpected humor. I use this blog as a way to share some of the journey. Thanks for joining in, even if its for a moment. "The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world." John 1:9

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