I love to write. I like putting words on the page. It doesn’t come particularly hard to me, but I will no longer ever again call myself a ‘blogger’.
I am not a blogger. I am a writer. Apparently (or at least according to a few people on the twitter #lbloggers chat) being a ‘lifestyle blogger’ does not involve representing your life and thoughts in which ever way you choose.
Lifestyle blogging has too many rules. Apparently I HAVE to have a picture of myself at least every three blog posts. I HAVE to have a lengthy FAQ page telling you everything from my weight to my bra size. I HAVE to post regularly and I HAVE to use my own images and not stock images.
For the best part of the last year I tried to stick to these rules. And it made me miserable. Because I am not a materialistic and uninformed sheep who has to conform to what a bunch of moronic teenagers inform me makes a ‘good’ blog. Harsh? Good. I’m pissed off with this so called community that does nothing other than bitch, complain and slag off other people’s attempts. Most of them can’t spell either.
So please don’t call me a blogger, because I don’t want to be associated with these games any more.
If the words are too much for you, that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend your evening looking at pictures of a size 8 girl asking you if her new jeans make her look fat. Actually, I’m lying. There is so much wrong with this that I can’t even begin to tell you how many issues you have.
To the bloggers I love: I will love you always and forever. To the hateful, preaching, sanctimonious, time-wasting minority that took all the fun out of it: please never darken my doorstep again.