For the Love of Blogging.

Copyright © Mark R Kelly 2026

What is it you do that you can, with hand on heart, honestly say you love to do?

For me, it is blogging. Yes, I enjoy exercising and keeping myself 'fit and healthy' as a by-product, but do I "love it"? Hell no - it's torture at times. I do, however, appreciate, and to some extent, enjoy the discipline it instils within me. But love? Not unless I was into the S&M thing - I'm laughing here just picturing some of you fitness people getting all huffy, "I'm not into S&M, I just love training!"

Gotcha.

But back to blogging - it's a great way for me to unwind. I view it as allowing my mind to sift through the mixed paperwork of my thoughts, ideas and ramblings. Once done, I might get lucky and have a topic or conversation piece float to the surface.

There are other times, usually with the quiet of night settled over the house, my desk clock quietly ticking to itself, that I lean into the conversational side of my thoughts. I sit and write as if having a one-to-one with an old friend, as we sit on those well worn, yet so very comfortable chairs, sipping a warm brew of our favourite drinks - kicking back, letting the flow of conversation meander like an exploring distributary of a river, and see where it leads.

Blogging is akin to journaling, or for some, keeping a diary. The great part being, you have the option of keeping it private, so no one but you have access. It can't be picked up by any nosy nelly and read on a whim.

When you do open it to the world, some visitors drift in by accident, a stray breadcrumb from a search engine leading them your way. In most of those instances, they flit out just as fast, leaving nothing but cyberspace dust swirling in a frustrated eddy, as the door slams behind them.

One or two, whether intentional and by design, or purely out of curiosity, will pull up a chair and read - like yourself - and these are the folks I like. You become (hopefully) engaged in my 'conversation'. Maybe intrigued enough to browse further, or even return another day.

I have to admit, the element of frustration is always present for me. Why? People who do visit tend to do so in silence. No comment made, either anonymously or by name. It's sad in a way, for it leaves a sensation of emptiness - like sitting on a once full train platform, and everyone has boarded, and the train has long since pulled away, but you're still sat there. Alone, in the silence.

On the upside, there are always more trains arriving. And who knows, maybe one of those trains will be carrying that voice who chooses to say, "Hello, I've enjoyed being here."

That's the beauty - you never know what each day brings. Wouldn't you agree?

Now have some fun with Paolo Nutini's - "Pencil Full of Lead". Enjoy.