a blog by any other name

What's in a name?

A blog – would I feel such aversion to bearing my heart and soul on this computer screen if it weren’t called ‘blog’. As a person whose world is made up of words - both their meaning and sound - how can 'blog' serve to satisfy my craving for beauty and meaning. The words: blob, bog, log, and bob pop into my mind instantly at the utterance of the word 'blog' and conjure unsatisfying and murky imagery of soggy wetlands.

At least with my journal, which is the epi-centre of all thought and emotion in my world, I can treasure it, refer to it, and write in it without feeling my shoes will get muddy and I'll find leeches on my legs. It's beautiful, my journal.

My journal is not only aesthetically pleasing, but functionally. I can fit my heart and soul into my pocket; I can bring it with me for coffee, or to the beach, or into my bed. It is never more than 5ft. from me at all times.

But what's more - it is a treasure. A secret and safe place where I can let my mind wander and my heart wonder and no one can judge it. No one can see it. It's protected from the critical onlookers who would condemn the things of my heart.

So, it's hard to discern if it's this word 'blog' that is making me feel queasy, or the thought of blogging - letting it all hang out for others to poke and prod at my naked soul.