I, blogger

“Microcelebrity” is what we bloggers want, and each of us defines that evocative term in our own way.

I discovered that word in a terrific piece of commentary by author Bill Wasik in The New York Times. Wasik compares internet ventures with a young adult’s idealistic move to New York City. He writes:

“The experience of moving online actually bears quite a few similarities to becoming a New Yorker. Disorienting and seemingly endless, the Internet conversation moves at lightning speed and according to unstated social rules that can bewilder outsiders. Also, like New Yorkers, residents of the Internet do not suffer fools, or mince words in belittling them, as anyone who has contributed a redundant post to Metafilter, or an earnest comment to Gawker, can attest.”

A down-market version of that experience happens here in Portland. This is a young city, full of the magnetic pulls of great new music, art, food and other art. The hip factor, bike lanes, utterly absent dress code, and infinite number of temp agencies make it a good incubator for those of tender years and big dreams. (And a surprising number of late-career types.)

The Willamette River isn’t the only thing that flows through here. Every six months or so I hear from a Smith College alum (or one of their brothers) who has just landed here to pursue a life of art/social work/activism/journalism and who needs a decent meal/$50/a resume re-write/an evening’s break from the other three roommates. Some cherished friendships have grown out of those calls.

Likewise, as Wasik notes, the internet experience is one of connections and hopefulness–and in this, it transcends generation. Granted, my younger friends waste none of their time marveling at the transparency of life online, while my contemporaries are stunned by their own addiction to Facebook.

Why do I do it? I wasn’t even that wild about the public nature of being a newspaper reporter, never mind this wide-open medium. I think there’s a very attractive combination of forces at work when one blogs. I manage to be both intimate and public, journalist and fiction writer. I choose the news of the day. I revel in inconsistency and I take a morning off when I feel like it.

Oddly enough, blogging also feels more like my early days in a daily newsroom than anything else. Just as I did back then, I rise early and I have a clean slate every day. I know my family and close friends will read whatever I write, and quite a few strangers too. I have an inflated sense of my value, but most of the time I keep that under wraps. I secretly know my brilliance will be rewarded.