My day in pictures (and. . . well, words, because who am I kidding? They come whether I plan to write or not):
The morning check of my daily blogroll and Tommy Ton brought this visual feast to the table. There is a delicious insouciance in wearing clashing prints- and I can't promise that I do it with as much panache as this girl- but I'm feeling it.
Articles on blogging. Thoughts sprinting off in all kinds of directions. Took two capuccinos to get through this one, not because it was dull (the opposite, actually!) but because I wanted to take pains to make sure I engaged with the writer's every point. The new thoughts it prompted are blossoming and branching through what I already have, shoving some ideas aside and intertwining with others. . . I foresee an afternoon of writing them out. The anticipation of this just prompted a smile.
Lunch time! I made a Jamie Oliver salad, easy spring vignole- all broad beans, peas, mint, prosciutto and marinated artichoke hearts. I feel disproportionately healthy and smug (it had more than a good glug of olive oil in it and it was easy- as to make! but still.) This smugness is exacerbated by my pleased-with-myselfness at almost finishing the SMH Quick crossword. The Quick crossword has become a bit of a compulsion lately. I lose track of time when I'm doing it, and elusive answers will come to me at odd times (the other night I suddenly thought 'fajita!' in the middle of a film I was at and I found myself hankering to get home and write it in. Weird? Yes, perhaps.) But today! Today I have only one tricky answer left and I suspect that it's a word I don't know because I've listed every wind instrument I can think of including 'bass clarinet' and 'oboe' and am still stumped. Seven words. Egg shaped. This is going to haunt me.*
What else, friends? I have so many ideas to share with you from what I read today but the one I'll drop into our chats now is this: online-journal type blogs are often derided for being narcissistic by their critics. I suspect that this is because the content of such blogs circulate around the life of the blogger- and this is certainly evident on style blogs, apparent in the literally self-centred outfit post photographs, written dissections of their personal clothing and style as well as tidbits of information about their offline lives.
The adjective 'narcissistic' has undeniably negative connotations, harking back to Narcissus' extreme self-absorption which led to his death (and the pining away of poor Echo.) I'm wondering on what grounds blogging about one's self can be deemed 'narcissistic'- is it simply because the content is concerned with the self? And why is this necessarily bad? Such criticism seems to be comparing blogging to something else (which I've never heard articulated) which is ostensibly 'not-narcissistic'. But what is this mysterious other text? Is it a text/s concerned with content outside of the private sphere? And if so, I think that it is hardly a fair comparison to line up two text types or genres that have different purposes and areas of interest and to criticise the one for not being the other. It seems as absurd as deriding a fictional film for being fantastical because it is not a documentary.
I think that we need to find a language to talk about blogging and blogs that is concerned with what they are, rather than what they are not. Thus, this definitional problem raises it's bold head again. It is an exciting challenge, though. . .
* Two down was 'alacrity' and I got it after I took the photo!