So, I’ve started a blog.
Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t my idea. It was suggested to me by a man in a very expensive t-shirt who uses words like ‘engagement’ and ‘reach’ as if he’s talking about a military operation and not just me shouting into a digital void.
He told me I needed a ‘platform.’ I told him I already had a platform; it’s called a floor, and it’s where I stand when I’m trying to ignore people like him. But apparently, in the modern world, if you haven’t got a website where you post your innermost thoughts every Tuesday, you don’t actually exist. You’re just a ghost, rattling around in a house that doesn’t have Wi-Fi.
So, I sat down at the computer.
The first thing you’re faced with is ‘Choosing a Theme.’ This took three hours. There are themes called ‘Aspirations,’ ‘Serenity,’ and ‘Monolith.’ I wanted a theme called ‘Resignation’ or ‘Mild Irritation,’ but apparently, the software developers haven’t got around to catering for my demographic yet. I eventually settled on a layout that looked like a very boring newspaper from the 1970s.
Then comes the ‘About Me’ page.
This is where you’re supposed to sum up your entire soul in three chirpy paragraphs. “I’m Andy, and I love life’s little adventures!” No. I’m Andy, and I’m currently wondering why I’m not watching a documentary about bridges instead of doing this. I ended up writing: ‘I am a man who owns a laptop and regrets most of his decisions.’ The little green tick appeared. Success.
Then, the big one: The First Post.
There it is. A white rectangle. Blank. Staring at me. The cursor is blinking—flash, flash, flash—like a tiny, rhythmic heartbeat that’s mocking my lack of inspiration.
What do people actually put on these things? I looked at some other blogs for ‘inspiration.’ Big mistake. One woman had written 4,000 words on how to ‘de-clutter your spice rack using mindfulness.’ I don’t want to be mindful of my cumin. I just want to find it, put it in the chilli, and go back to being annoyed by the news.
Another chap had a blog dedicated to ‘The Art of the Morning Routine.’ He wakes up at 4:00 AM, drinks a glass of warm lemon water, and meditates for an hour. My morning routine involves hitting the snooze button until my bladder threatens to let go, and then staring at the kettle until it makes a noise. Nobody wants to read that. Or if they do, they shouldn’t.
I thought about writing a ‘Lifestyle’ blog. But I looked around my living room and realised my ‘lifestyle’ mostly involves trying not to make involuntary noises when I stand up.
Then I thought, maybe a ‘Food’ blog? But who has the energy? You can’t just eat a sandwich anymore. You have to take a photograph of it from three different angles, apply a filter that makes the ham look ‘vintage,’ and write a preamble about how this sourdough reminds you of a summer you spent in a villa in Tuscany that you never actually went to. By the time you’ve finished, the bread is stale and you’ve lost the will to live.
I’ve had the blog for three days now. So far, it has zero followers.
Actually, that’s not true. I have one follower. It’s a ‘bot’ from a company in Eastern Europe that sells industrial-strength pressure washers. I don’t need a pressure washer, but at least someone—or some algorithm—is listening.
I’m currently staring at the ‘Publish’ button. It’s a very assertive shade of blue. It’s waiting for me to share my ‘content.’
Content. That’s what we call thoughts now, isn’t it? It’s not a story, or a joke, or a moan. It’s content. Like the stuff you find inside a sofa or a shipping container. Just… bulk.
I think I might just type the word ‘Hello’ and see what happens. But then someone might reply. And then I’ll have to reply to them. And before you know it, I’ve got a ‘community.’
I don’t want a community. I started this blog so I could be alone in a different way.
I’m going to turn the computer off now. I think I’ve done enough ‘engaging’ for one decade. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be on my other platform. The floor. Standing still. Not blogging.