Why blog?

I wonder why I have such a hard time in writing these posts? It has been almost a month since I last sat down and tried to type something. I suppose it is that I am still worried about someone actually reading these little screeds and thinking, "Man, what an idiot!" This, I think is the topic of most of the blogs I have ever read. They usually focus on the most recent thing that has irritated the blogger or has made him laugh. These seem to be the two emotions which run the blog culture right now. Well, those and posting pictures of your kids being unbearably cute.

That may be why I have not written anything lately because I am too tired or lazy to get angry about pretty much anything and I don't have any kids, just three cats. Though we did have an adventure this weekend with dogsitting. A failed attempt to see if we were ready for the responsibilities of being doggy parents. Because if Animal Planet has taught me anything, it is that taking care of a dog is a lot of work, work which my wife and I were willing to undertake but circumstances (small apartment, two full time jobs and most importantly three cats) do not permit that leap just yet.

I wonder if it is like having kids. No one is really ready for kids, they just adapt and figure it out as they go along. I find that as I get older I have become far more forgiving of my father's failings during my childhood. Maybe because time has softened the pain of those less than stellar moments or it is the realization that he was trying as hard to figure it out as I was.

But back to my point which I believe was that I have not been irritated by anything enough to write a post. I did try to write a post a few weeks ago about an especially egregious case my boss told me about where, as a state's attorney, he was not permitted to prosecute a prostitute who overdosed on cocaine because she was trying to kill the baby growing inside her belly. But I kept tripping over myself, trying to make great pronouncements of my indignation . When I really just came off sounding judgmental and arrogant. I mean it is easy to judge this woman because what she was doing seems so fundamentally wrong and the laws that prevented her prosecution seemed even more so, but rather than sounding "right" I sounded like just like every other blogger writing a "what pissed me off today"-style screed which is the last thing I want to do because the internet has plenty of those already.

Perhaps it would have gone better if I had asked the more important question which was how does someone get to the point to where the poisoning of your own child while within you seems the best option. But that question does not allow me to write long sarastic self important posts that tell the universe why I am better than this woman because I would never let this happen. The sad thing is that you and I already did and no amount of blogging will change that. So it brings me to the great question which seems to be the real theme of this post, why blog?

I suppose we can each ask this question of everything we do. Why create art? Why read books? Why make love? Why do anything when in the end it seems not to have any effect on anything? This, of course, is a very cynical and negative attitude, one which leads nowhere and sucks the enjoyment out of pretty much anything you can attempt to do with your life. So why do anything at all?

One word. Hope. I have come to believe that the most important thing in this world is hope. Why blog? why paint? why serve your fellow woman and man? Hope. Hope that this activity will not only affect the world around you but that it will have some impact on your own soul. I believe that hope will eventually lead you to God. Unfortunately atheism, hedonism,cynicism, and most other-isms lead only to hopelessness. This is because these -isms separate you from the rest of the world while hope brings the world to you.

So I guess that is where is post is going. I write when I have hope. I think I should look for it more often and maybe I would write more. I'll have to ponder that until next time.