I was talking to a friend the other day about my blog, and I realised that, although I only got into blogging because some friends were also into it, very few of those (if any) still maintain a blog (that I know of). And here I still am, adamant that I’ll maintain this post-per-week thing for as long as I am able to type and have some sort of internet access.
I suppose this has sort of become a hobby. I’ve never really thought of blogging as a hobby before, though. If people ask me what I do in my spare time, or if I have any hobbies, I actually quite highly doubt that “blogging” would even cross my mind. And yet, it fulfills all the requirements of a hobby. Is that strange?
Well, I figure it’s because I just consider it to be a thing that I do – not necessarily a past-time, but an essential part of my week. It’s like how I wouldn’t consider ironing my work uniform to be a hobby, even though it’s something that gets done on a roughly weekly basis. And, no, I also don’t exactly consider it a chore, since I generally don’t have a problem with ironing (unless it’s ridiculously hot or something, in which case I’d just wait until later in the day when it’s cooler, or put the air conditioner on).
On a side note, the more I talk to people about ironing (and, no, don’t worry, it doesn’t pop up in conversation that often), the more I find that a lot of other people don’t mind ironing either. Granted, a lot of other people hate it, but that’s kind of the norm, I guess.
On another side topic that’s kind of unrelated but I’m going to write about anyway because I just thought of it and this is my blog, so I’ll write about what I want – I can’t remember who or where, but someone was talking about how they’ve only ever seen certain words written down and thus don’t know how to pronounce them properly because they’ve never heard those words spoken. And now I kind of wonder if there are certain words, which I’ve learnt from reading and deducing the meaning from the context, that actually mean something (slightly) different.
I like learning new words and expanding my vocabulary and such, but a lot of the time, when I’m reading a book, I don’t want to interrupt the story by looking up words to find the proper definition. Sometimes I’ll make a note of the word (mental or written) to remind myself to look it up later …but that doesn’t always happen. So now I have this very mild and probably insignificant paranoia that there may be certain words that I’ve read/heard a hundred times and thus think I know the meaning of, which actually mean something a bit different.
For example, I managed to slip the word “enthralled” into conversation today, and afterwards had some misgivings about its usage in that particular context, so I actually looked it up just before, and happily found out that my usage of the word was fine. On a side note to this extended side note, I quite like the word “enthralled”, so I’m glad it means what I thought it meant.