(or, “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love my Blog.”)

Another of my favorite blogs has shut down. I hope this trend ends soon. Not that I don’t understand – and sympathize – fully.

March 10 marks my 2 Year Blogiversary here at Electric Venom, so I wholly understand all the ways blogging consumes one’s life. There were times, early on, when I blew off opportunities to do fun things with my little boy because I didn’t want to miss the chance to spout off about breaking news. The war was just starting back then and we were living in Hawaii. Due to the time zone difference, I was just starting my blogging day around the time others were heading out to lunch. My dinner-time was late night for other bloggers, so I spent my evenings looking for “the Big Scoop” in my news aggregator.

Eventually, the compulsion wore off. I missed playing with my little boy. I was sick of the house constantly looking like a wreck. I hated feeling as if conversations with my husband were annoying interruptions. I went on hiatus, addressed all of those issues, and resumed blogging only to find myself, a few months later, once again trying to remember the last time I’d spent an evening relaxing with my husband or an hour playing with my son on the floor — not to mention the last time I’d been able to actually see the floor under the magazines and laundry strewn everywhere. So, I took yet another break and, a week or so later when the house was clean and I’d caught up with my family, I went back to blogging again.

After a while, I really started to hate blogging. Or, more accurately, I started to hate that I was missing out on so much of my life because I was busy blogging about things that, ultimately, have very little impact on my day-to-day world. Terrorism? Yes, it’s a frightening thing but, in all honesty, there’s nothing I can personally do to stop it whereas I can teach my son how to make an elephant out of Play Dough. Tax cuts or hikes? Sure, they affect my family eventually, but not nearly as immediately as whether and what I’m making for dinner. The war in Iraq or Afghanistan? Yes, I know quite a few people who are over there fighting, but none so well as my husband, whom I’d spent many nights ignoring because I was too busy with my blog.

What ensued was a lather-rinse-repeat cycle — aided by selling our house, moving to temporary lodging, various trips out of town and computer problems — during which I’d blog lightly, then take a break, then blog lightly again.

Then I started to notice something: when I took a break, you – the Snake Pit – were all understanding and supportive. “You deserve it,” you’d email, “we’ll be here when you return.” At first, I thought you were full of crap. My hits will suffer, I’d think. My ratings in the blogosphere will plunge. And, while the ratings have indeed plunged, the hits haven’t. You’re still here. About a year ago, when I suffered a back injury that kept me from blogging for an entire month, the daily hits only declined 15% during my absence and immediately bounced back when I did. They’ve remained fairly steady since then.

What’s changed, however, is the importance that I attach to blogging. It’s no longer the first thing I do every morning, nor the last thing I do before bed at night. My son no longer views my computer as a rival, and I’ve now memorized the complete works of Dr. Seuss after reading each one of them to him on demand. My house is “company clean” on most days, and that’s saying a lot since this house is three times bigger than the one we had in Hawaii. My husband’s happier, too, since reruns of “The West Wing” aren’t the only thing occupying our evening hours.

As for blogging, I’ve started to view it as a treat in every sense of the word. I now view blogging as something to indulge in after I’ve finished my morning chores, a break between loads of laundry, a reward for having finished my workout on the exercise bike. On days when I’m too busy to post an entry, I don’t feel as if I’m being negligent. On the contrary, I’m happy that I’m not neglecting those whom I treasure in favor of something ephemeral. And, oddly, on days like yesterday when I have nothing to say, I see it now as a good thing: my thoughts and energies are being directed toward living in the present, not in pursuit of hits or rankings.

All of this was made possible by you, the folks who read Electric Venom and who’ve been coming to this site for two years to read whatever ravings or rants I needed to get out of my system that day. Thanks to you, I’ve found one of the most rewarding hobbies I’ve known, and thanks to your supportive understanding, I’ve learned to incorporate that hobby so that my life is now rewarding, too.

I’m looking forward to the next two years. I hope you’ll still be around. I plan to be, too.