Why do I write? What is the purpose of this website blog thingy? Who cares?

I ask myself those questions all the time. Those questions have prompted me to open and close this blog website throughout the past few years. Those questions have caused me to even stop writing for long stretches. After all, this journal of sorts is a bit of a private affair, is it not?

I’ve never written a book. I’m not an expert on anything. I’m not qualified to do much of anything, really. So what business do I have in writing and publishing my words in the internet? I reckon there is a slight narcissistic element to seeing my words in print next to my picture on a pretty page. Perhaps I just need a hobby, or an outlet, with which to vent my internal musings.

I use to feel a responsibility to report on the great things I saw God doing in and around my life. For several years I have been an observer, a witness, to some amazing things. But I also go through periods of shoving my head in the sand and hoping to be left alone.

I guess I write because … well … because I can. I have this inane ability to craft words into sentences that make statements and convey thoughts. When I write I feel like I am accomplishing something and at the same time giving my brain room to breathe.

To write is to be vulnerable with your thoughts, feeling, emotions, and ideas. To write is to make a statement and be willing to stand behind it. I am putting into writing what and who I am for the whole world to see, discuss, and judge — for better or for worse.

So I suppose the whole purpose of writing here is to be who I am and share that with anyone who happens to stumble across it. To be and make known my interests and intentions. To exercise my brain and vent out frustrations. To put my naked thoughts on display. To converse, discuss, and reminisce.

I guess that is why I write.