Blogging has become a habit. Not writing, or thinking, or creating – but blogging. The actual act of putting something on the Internet to be judged, to create the black marks on someone’s computer screen.
It’s become so much of a habit that I know when I’ve gone a few days without. Like a junkie. Like an addict, suffering DTs and shaking while the rest of the world goes on living, never knowing the difference between a post on Monday and a post on Tuesday.
Of course, it’s common in a million other things. We’re tied to updating Twitter, or buying cookbooks, or catching a few minutes of the Sunday night football game, despite how much we hate both teams. We keep coming back to MTV reality shows and tabloid magazines and over-critical partisan politics even though we know we’ll safely exist without them.
We do the things we like because we like them, sure. But we also do them because our minds are so used to doing them. We create our own habits based on the things we enjoy. Some of them are harmful. Others are completely harmless.
I blog because I’m addicted. But also because I like to write for people. Which, in turn, forced me into addiction.