I’ve been having so much fun with this blogging – both the writing and learning WordPress – that I decided to buy my own domain name and switch over to WordPress.org so I can get more creative with the design. I’m taking an online WordPress course this summer, and I have so much to learn. Can’t wait to dive in!
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, as it turns out) my blog’s .com name was snatched up by some dude in Illinois a few weeks after I opened my WordPress account. What he plans to do with fengschwa.com (and .org and .net and .info) I have no idea, but he can have it. The name always gave me a chuckle, but my sense of humor is obviously not universal. When I’d finally get up the gumption to share my blog with someone, the news was usually met with a wrinkled brow and questioning eyes. Feng what? I’d quickly have to explain the Feng Schwa play on words… and always felt a smudge of embarrassment. Not the most resounding endorsement of my own creation!
So I spent the first weekend of my summer vacation with a thesaurus, pen, paper, and some major brainstorming sessions. In the end I decided to change the name to Profoundly Ordinary, a phrase I used in my very first entry. When I think of the purpose and of this blog, it’s simply to write about my profoundly ordinary life. Sometimes it leans a bit more toward the profound, other days are plain old ordinary. But honestly, I’d like to capture it all.
It looks like I have successfully transferred everything to my sparkly new domain: profoundlyordinary.com. Welcome!
So the other night I was clanking away on my keyboard, documenting the details of the kids’ school dances. My husband was sitting next to me on the couch, watching Pawn Stas at a volume that was driving me insane, when he suddenly paused the show and said, “Who exactly is the audience for this blog thing, anyway?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. I guess my answer lies somewhere between, “Oh it’s just to document memories for us, honey” and “However many people it takes to become a lucrative career that will enable me to quite my day job.” Hmph.
I did sheepishly tell some of my friends about this venture, and I emailed the link to a few far-away family members. (Hi Grandma!) Maybe someday I’ll even come way out and do something radical like link this to my Facebook account… but it’s doubtful.
This poster from Despair, Inc. kind of sums up the whole concept of blogging for me:
There’s a lot of people on this planet, but I’m not presumptuous enough to think that many of them really care to read my ramblings. We humans are busy creatures, you know. But I do have a lot to say, or at least plenty to preserve, and I am going to keep this up because I believe my primary audience won’t read this for a good 20 years. That’s when my two favorite little readers will log onto some yet-to-be-invented device and scroll through the stories of their childhood. Sam-Bam and Magpie, this is for you.
Something tells me that, in all those stories, I’ll still have my day job. Bummer.
For some reason I have the urge to start a blog of my own. Part of me thinks, “What is the point?” Really… I could just journal away in some neverending Google Doc that I refuse to share with another soul on the planet (because Google is so secure) and acknowledge that I have absolutely no audience for this thing. When I think of people who I know and love reading this I feel self-conscious, yet when I think of strangers reading this I figure that… well… they won’t.
Blogging will be a tough venue for my perfectionistic personality, but I shall try to let it go. (Since “perfectionistic” isn’t even a word, I figure I’m off to a good start.) I’ll just keep reminding myself that hitting the “publish” button is not synonymous with sending a manuscript to Random House, and we’ll see what happens from there.
To be honest, the entire culture of blogging is a little odd to me. I’m choosing a public venue for my private reflections… but the primary purpose is to get writing again, and this makes it so gosh darn easy. There was a time when I’d fall asleep, pen in hand and cheek pressed into a simple spiral-bound notebook, on a nightly basis. But those days are over 10 years, 2000 miles, and another lifetime away.
The fact is, writing has always been my way to vent, agonize, grieve, celebrate, and laugh. So here goes… my quest write more, even if it’s only about my profoundly ordinary existence!