I’ve been waiting to tell you all this for a while, and it took a publication format called “Medium” for me to get the courage to do so. The medium is the message, and the word for that thing you do, well, it sucks.
English is not the most beautiful language on Earth, but it has its own charm, and this abbreviation benefits from none of it. Blog sounds like something I do after too many rye Manhattans, not how I satisfy the urge to communicate with my fellow humans using the most incredible technology of our age. Despite the coaching and editing of blogging genius Bora Zivkovic and support of editor Meghan Groome, I have never been interested in having my own blog, so I’ve failed to do so, despite all of the reasons one should (none of which I dispute). I blame this on my feelings for the word “blog.”
I have told myself I would get around to doing it, told friends how much I’d love to write for their … Site. Have even done it a few times, to keep the guilt at bay. However, given the chance to explore this-here gorgeous new technology invented by the founders of Blogger (“I hardly know ‘er!”), I felt humbled into not only beginning to write in earnest, but exploring the roots of my neurotic loathing. I know I hate the word, but I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s the origin. Captain’s log: Star Date 1997. The dot-com era is at its peak, my boyfriend and I spend our days at internet companies and our nights playing video games. The one person I know with a blog started it because no one liked talking with him on The Well, the online community where Bay Area freaks would exchange ideas, bootlegs and innuendo. This guy decided he was going to write about how stupid it was. Even though we all agreed his critiques were valid, we hated that guy. Why not just tell us to our digital faces how he felt? Why passive-aggressively leave his online journal open, for us to come find?
It might be my father: the most oversharing blogger of all time. I don’t know my father in person, but lemme tell you, I know my father. His blog tells me everything from where he grew up to how he met my mom to where he works these days (a sex shop) and what he’s looking for in women (one word: tantra). And though I dabble in oversharing, I do it 140 characters at a time, usually after midnight, and nearly always with an @ symbol protecting you from anything you might not want to know.
Or, let’s try free association time: blog reminds me of… Blonde. Long. Bog. Agog. Egg nog. Blargh. Blarney. “Touch the log.” A log of crap. Blotto. Bling. Werner Herzog. Boring, long, obfuscating grandstand. Blaaaaahhhhhhhhg, said in a heavy Boston accent. Not. One. Positive. Association.
I just Googled whether someone had actually blogged on their hatred of the word blog. Because, if so, that would be meta and fun to link to. Instead, I found out that not only am I unoriginal, but the woman that originally snubbed the term was Anna Wintour, Vogue Editrix,with whom I have absolutely nothing else in common except for our shared loathing. While I commend her effort to come up “with a new word that isn’t as garish-sounding,” I am sad to report that, in the end, she failed, instead copping out with “The Vogue Daily.” Laaaame. So here I am, publishing this whatever it is, in this “medium.” Please offer new terms, share in my rant or psychoanalyze me at will.