What is this supposed to be?

I have been stymied. Wanting to write... but confusing myself about what the purpose is. I thought this was for me. Just for me. Because I want to reflect on things, and put meaning to them and remember them. And because I can types faster than I can write by hand in a paper journal. So, I guess it is for others to... to read when I am old or dead.

But in this blogger world, it seems that people write for the Public. Instead of writing about the mundanities of their lives in whole meal size, they try to find the juicy morsel that can be spritzed up and made good for public display. An amuse bouche, with lots of flavor and layers... and opposed to my crock-pot entry with protein and potatoes nad veggies all in a thick gravy.

I've read these blogs. I've followed links from the few blogs I actually know from personal friends. I've just wandered the blogosphere reading different things. It's a guilty pleasure actually. I am so amazed by people's ability to write. So much talent out there. It feels a bit pornographic - stealing glimpses inside people's private worlds. And yet... it's not a raw, homemade sex tape thing. It's shot with glamour lights, and edited for public consumption. That word again. Public. These blogs seem edited, culled, perfected. Things I do not feel so much about myself.

So, I'm not sure what this is for. At this point, my little blog is still in the closet. Just for me. So I don't have to be too freaked about whether my style is good, my theme important, my meaning worthy. Just my little mundanities for me.