Why am I here? For that matter, why are you?

The trouble is that I always want there to be a Reason for everything.

There has to be a point for a blog. I've read that most blogs have only one author and only one reader -- and they are one and the same person. Basically they're online diaries. Why are these people posting their private lives online, making them public?

• Many blogs out there are exercise/diet diaries; the poster putting the minutiae of their daily life out for public view for anyone or no one to see, presumably as a way of keeping themselves on track for their goal.
  
• Writers post blogs that serve this function too, as well as keeping their readers involved in their progress.
• Some blogs are public rants; the poster holds forth on their opinions about all and sundry.
• Some blogs are private parties; the poster or posters hang out online with their physical and virtual friends. (I've enjoyed a couple of these blogs myself; you meet some good peoples online.)
• Some blogs are the online year 'round equivalent of a Christmas letter: the poster uses the public forum to keep their friends and family au courant.

Some of these blogs are well written, some are not. A lot have spelling errors and typos, so many that the impression is given that the poster doesn't care what they look like to the world. (It's the editor in me, but I can't fathom that. Would these people go out in public with their hair unbrushed or their clothes wrinkled and askew?) But all of these blogs seem to be posted by people who really believe in what they're doing. There's the rub.

Maybe the problem is that I can't quite believe in myself enough to think that my musings will hold much fascination for anyone else. Even the dog curls up for a nap when I start telling her my troubles. My family nods politely, eyes glazed over, when I tell them about my exercise schedule or dieting struggles. Why would posting a blog be any different?

Perhaps the only way to find out is to blog about something. Here. I'll tell you what, Dear Reader. (I'm presuming you exist.) I'll try a slice of life (low cal, just a dash of chocolate on top):

I'm sitting here typing and out my window I can see planes flying back and forth, jets passing low overhead, helicopters buzzing the trees. (Okay, one helicopter.) You'd think I was in the middle of a Baghdad neighborhood, but in reality it's just the local air show. The small airport is actually about four or five miles away, but there's always some overflow. Usually I enjoy looking at the planes going by. When I go shopping, I can see the acrobatic biplanes doing loops and crazy stunts, safely thank Heaven. I'm hoping to catch sight of the Blue Angels. But this year I'm also a bit nervous. My newly developed fear of flying has extended to when I'm on the ground and they're in the air. Last year a friend of mine went on a garden tour with another friend. When they got back to the other woman's house, they found it on fire. A plane had crashed into it, killing the pilot and setting two neighboring houses on fire. My friends had been running late that day; they'd originally planned to have returned about fifteen minutes sooner, in which case she wouldn't have been around to tell me about it. The moral of the story, to me, is that's it's not always a good thing to be on time.

There. I've now created a slice-of-life blog post. Maybe next time I'll try posting my diet and exercise schedule.

p.s. I've just discovered a blog that has tips on how to blog, if you're interested.