I love blogging. It satisfies an urge that I have – the urge to talk. But blogging is about a whole lot more than just having your soap box moment. I have been blogging for a couple of weeks now, and something was scratching the nether regions of my consciousness. Something was wrong. And I stayed away for a couple of days, trying to figure it out. And then I had my eureka moment . . .
But it began a week ago, when I took my granddaughters to the animal farm. The youngest, Ameleah, just fell in love with one of the gnomes, and promptly sat down and asked the gnome to be her friend. Needless to say, the gnome smiled in a friendly manner, and looked pretty and colourful, but he wasn’t about to become her friend. I eventually distracted her with promises of all the lovely smelling donkeys and pigs and goats that were waiting for their lettuce leaves and bread. But she really wanted to be the gnome’s friend. Two year old minds are not easy to change.
Then today we went to feed the animals again – I don’t know what they would do without us – and there was Mr Gnome again. I’m not sure it was the same one, but Ameleah went and sat herself down next to him and said in her adorable helium voice : “You be my fwend?” And what did the lifeless chunk of concrete do? He just sat there and ignored my granddaughter. Oh, he still looked cute and colourful, but that is all he is good for. He ain’t gonna be anybody’s friend. Ever.
Then the clichéd penny dropped. That was the problem with blogging. I am trying to make friends with bloggers, but most of them are gnomes – concrete ones. They have great looking blogs and they say great things, but that’s where it ends. Because they never look further than their gnome noses. Look, I make an effort, and I will read your posts and say something as often as possible, because I believe that blogging is a way to build some sort of friendships in Blogville. If I have nothing to say, I like to leave a “like” or two where it fits. Don’t get me wrong, I have made some really super friends here that I would invite to dinner any day of the week (most of them would need to be chaperoned, though, or muzzled at the very least), but there is a large number of people that have ignored the fact that I am a person with my own ideas too, and am not just here for their edification. In other words, you stroke my ego and I’ll stroke yours. That’s what friends are for.
Anyway, now that I know what the problem is, I also know how to solve it. If you won’t be my friend, I will just go and search for another. The donkeys at least see the lettuce in my hand and smile at me before making funny noises. Okay, my rant is over. I feel much better. And, by the way, if you have just read this post, it’s not meant for you. But then you will know exactly what I am talking about.