Taking advice (my own, and others)

So I left the iPod at home on my run today. I'd already cleared the R3-30 podcasts (hit-and-miss for running beats) and took on some DJ Miles tracks for the road, but then I remembered ... from previous posts (not to mention weird chest rashes from electronic cables) ... that my mind sort of shuts down when I listen to music on the go.

And I really do want to get back to you, blog. (Only upon returning did I realize I'd been gone for a month! Egad!)

In any case, after I started trotting down Lyon Street, eyes focused on the semi-plowed sidewalk and cheeks puckered against the wind, I realized I I would have to take it slow on this run. Winter running is an entirely different sport, involving a testy game of layering (one which I'm losing via over-bundling these days) and a final product that, in my case, looks nothing more graceful than a power-suited lade rushing the morning bus in heels and a briefcase.

Take it slow, I told myself. You're out here, you're taking a stab at it. Slow -- baby steps. (Though in this weather babies would be wheeled around or cozily strapped to mom's chest).

And then, the aha moment. I can take it slow with the blog. I can write in spurts, I can leave it alone for a week of heavy deadlines (or a time when I doubt it's role in helping be get a paying gig).

So I took my own advice a couple times here. But I also want to get better at this, I want to improve and I DO believe it can help me get paying gigs.

So, in the bleak mid-winter, when times are tough all over and neither running nor writing looks appealing, I'm going to read more blogs, research and link, and take baby steps to a new online life.

First Post: from the Tunxis Community College Library

Here we go...
For years, people have been asking me if I have a blog. Yes years! In Internet time that's a decade, at least. I've always been writing, hiding away my journal underneath my pillow, so I suppose it's a natural assumption I'd jump on the Blog Bandwagon.
And when my mother and my boyfriend both asked me, within the span of a week, "what's a blog?" I realized this media form had hit a pivotal saturation level. (My boyfriend is currently struggling through his computer graphics class, feeling the snickering of classmates as he learns the difference between a desktop icon and a screensaver; my mom is, well, a mom).
Then I tried to create my own website, using dotster and NVU and countless other how-to sites and downloadable applications.
Maybe it was because I was on the "Master Cleanse" (hot water + lemon juice + cayenne pepper + maple syrup, and nothing else) when I first attempted to get a site going, but in the end I gave up and asked for my domain hosting fee back. (So far, dotster seems okay with it, but I have to jump through some hoops and haven't received the credit back on my card.)
So there's the backdrop.
The stage is set.
I spend plenty hours on my macbook every day, I write in my journal just about every day, and I talk to myself constantly...this shouldn't be hard.
What strikes me now is the question: What do people want to hear?
Followed by: And should I give it to them?
Given that this is, so far, a completely random and wide-open forum, I feel tempted to throw caution to the wind and take advantage of the freedom.
And yet...I want a readership.
Which is why I took the journalism route—over the writer's path—in the first place.
Hmmm. My head is starting to tilt in that curious dog way. I like it.
And I have to admit that my slim macbook (no, not an Air) is becoming more comfy than a dog-eared diary.
I'm curling up in new ways, finding this community college library a nurturing home for thoughtful brewing.
I can dig it.
And I can hear those people, those that asked me about my blog, saying: I knew that you could.