Experiential Blogger Seeks Single Robot for Poetic Amalgamation

Or, How to Write a Blog Post that No One Understands and Yet Still Find the Solution to World Peace

I love this post from ScoutieGirl about Experiential Blogging so much that I’ve decided to give up my calling as a freelance circus masseur and start only being experiential.

Dastardly cruel as it is (yes, it CAN be an adverb!), I had to read ScoutieGirl’s post — along with another awesome observation about experiential blogging from Storyfix.com — buried in the stacks at the crank-it-out home of uber-blogmeister Problogger. “YOU MUST PAY THE RENT!”

This is the land of love-hate for me. Here’s why:

This maven of shiny-headedness represents the monetary achievements of blog world.

At Problogger_Plaza you get lessons via a daily injection of how-to blog-it-all. How? Just by stringing the correct words together (with the help of enumerated lists) in the correct order so that they suck in the gagging masses of pajama-wannabe-never-leave-home hackers while pleasing the page rank demons with all their SEO demands.

Ok, now that I’ve got the “hate” part out (a blathering jabber of incomplete truths and misrepre-sonifications) …

Here’s the love.

Problogger’s site thrives with infinite usefulness. It trips with the kind of direct language any writing prof like me can only dream of. The design is clean and linear–drop-downs lead snappily to the page you’ve asked for. Question asked, and answered.

It’s the department store of blogs– you arrive and find what you were looking for, along with at least 10 other things, such as post on how to use LinkedIn to drive traffic to your blog or the best writing advice, EVER!

Sigh.

Why, then do I prefer to actually visit and read ScoutieGirl’s bizarrely wonderful experiential handmade goods blog, rather than stay at Problogger and scoop up more and more useful tidbits?

Blog mirrors real life, apparently.

Real beauty makes appealing blogs. Perhaps we live  in comfortable family rooms and with our head in beer fridges more often than we are served by formal living rooms and cut-crystal filled bars.

However, the soul wants what it wants.

Just as the comely girl-next-door will be there for you– waiting. While your beauty listens to you string together metaphors under the lilac blooms.