I’m sitting here, before the keyboard, ready to dispense another self-absorbing cotton ball of a post, and then flick it out, into the blog-o-sphere. Drawn from the plastic, not paper, bag of my life, it is all light, white and fluffy. Dipped in alcohol, it becomes antiseptic and sodden, neither of which, is entertaining.

I crave readers and obsess over the daily hit-count parade. On a good day, the moon and the stars align, and the hits, they just keep-a-coming. Other days, I wonder, if I’d get more readers, by writing on the bathroom wall.

Navel gazing takes many forms. All such gazers are by nature self-absorbed. As a blogger, I sometimes fall prey to this inward turned vision, but is that really a bad thing? I mean, this blog is really all about me, right? I try to make each post entertaining/informative for the reader, but sometimes I don’t have much news, like today. So, informative is out, let’s try being entertaining then.

Navel gazing has as long a history in entertainment as show business itself. Shakespeare farmed the play within the play, most famously in Hamlet. Theater and movies are studded with similar examples. What better theme than a once lost, company of actors banding together to put on the show. So, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, let’s on with the show!

The movie, Julie and Julia, written by Nora Ephron (screenplay) and Julie Powell (book), best captures the blog, as the show within a show. Not so much the Julia Child half, with Meryl Streep, that part is like the musical numbers that are performed throughout the show, as rehearsal numbers, but with command performance perfection. I’m speaking of the Amy Adams’ half, the Julie half, the blogging half of the show. This is where my drama lies.

It starts with Julie Powell’s moment of inspiration, “I could write a blog. I have thoughts.” Then there is the frenetic process of setting up the blog. With most modern blog host, like mine, WordPress, it is just as much fun as shopping. What theme should I choose to decorate with today? I think that I’ll choose this widget and that one over there. Eventually though, you have to start writing. There is no way around it. I went through the inspiration and shopping/setting-up phases and ran straight into the brick wall of writing.

In hindsight, I should have waited before I started this blog. Either that, or taken up a few more dangerous hobbies. Writing this blog, I am mining my life’s experiences at an unsustainable rate. If I was older, or had a few more life shortening pursuits, then maybe before my well ran dry, my obit, of course, published on this blog, might read, he died in his sleep, with a smile on his face, shot in his bed, by a jealous lover. 😉

The joy and anguish of blogging was captured in one moment, in Julie and Julia. I’m speaking of the scene where Julie gets her first comment. She is checking her blog at work; I would never do that. Overjoyed, she tells her co-worker, but then reading the comment, realizes that it is from her mother, who is not supportive and tells Julie so. My family has been supportive, critical at times, but justly so. I have another picture from my brother to show off with this post. I always have my muse at my back, even though I’d be glad to see her take her turn at the keyboard too.

Julie Powell’s blog was scripted from the start, 365 days, and 524 recipes. Her script gave her focus. My blog is about my life, where there is no script, at least none that I have read, just one day at a time. Both halves of Julie and Julia reinforce a core message of persistence. After ten years, Julia finishes her book. Julie spends a year in her kitchen and makes all 524 recipes. Isn’t that what blogging is all about, being there, day after day? I think so. See ya tomorrow!

This post features another photograph from Chris’s camera. This photo reprises two of Chris’s previous pictures of Cannery Row, The Fish Hopper restaurant and a mural, depicting two fishermen coming in with their catch, are combined into one shot. He photographed this as part of Trey Ratcliff’s photo-walk.