I wanted to Instagram this picture of my very capable-looking jury duty outfit, but then the good judgment part of my brain lit up and thought perhaps this is frowned upon with the judicial powers that be? Could a juror revealing that she will perchance be selected to assist in the fate of another human’s traffic violation repercussions result in a hung jury? (Is it hang jury? Jury that has been hunged? Pauly Shore, send help.) So instead, I snapped the photo and kept it to myself, which is pretty unheard of for a blogger. Scandal!
And OK, since we’re on the subject: let’s talk about it, shall we? I hear pretty much daily that blogging is dead. “Instagram killed the style blog!” “Twitter is the new email!” “Bloggers, diversify! Quick!” I mean, the New York Times shut down a slew of blogs, and when the New York Times does something (anything!), people take note. But here’s what I think…
Storytelling doesn’t die. I mean, women alone share like, 20,000 words a day. It’s true, I read it in the New York Times. (Get it?) And blogging is storytelling, but with a megaphone. We’re just here, on our soapboxes, sharing what we know – the good and the bad and the mundane and the pointless and, sometimes, a few words string together in the right way and spark a life change in someone we’ve never met.
It’s good. It’s necessary. We’re cavemen, carving our stories on the walls of this Internet mountain – words and pictures and documentation that we were here. We existed.
I think about this all the time, about the kind of picture I’m carving. Is it worth it? Is it profound enough to exist in my mountain for future generations to view and question and fill in the blanks about the kind of people we were?
The answer, of course, is yes. Absolutely, yes, one thousand times over. Whether we’re snapping selfies or pinning marbled wallpaper, we’re telling a story that history will use to piece together the puzzles of this age. And that’s a story I want to be a part of, regardless of the size of my megaphone or the value of my sponsored campaigns. Whether I’m sharing denim cutoffs or human rights, breastfeeding or political inconsistencies. I’m a piece of the puzzle. We all are.
Blogging won’t die, because it was never truly alive. The stories, the voices – that’s where the heart beats. And storytelling, friends, is forever. (Just ask the New York Times.)