It’s not about the fireplugs

Scott, Phil and I had a meeting in St. Louis today and, on the way back, we passed a semi loaded with shiny new fireplugs. As we passed I snapped a picture. In a very accusatory tone, Scott said, “Mays is just looking for something to blog. That’s why I quit. I got tired of trying to come up with something to write about every day.”

Actually, I took the picture because the fireplugs looked very phalic and naughty in an industrial sort of way. But I understand the “blog pressure” Scott and many other bloggers feel. Fortunately, I don’t share Scott’s need to make every post interesting and worth reading. I’ll post on anything. But if I were taking the photo just so I could blog it. What the hell would I say? “Look at the dirty fireplugs?” No, Scott… we don’t live to blog. We blog to live.

I have another friend that battles his blog demons. Andy writes very long, very thoughtful posts. In truth, they’re more like essays that blog posts. He says he envies my knack for posting short, trivial items that don’t gobble up my day. (I added “trivial”) What Andy must understand that is that it’s the gestalt of that gives greater meaning to the humble parts.