Inferiority complex

I have just been browsing in two eloquent blogs by people I know, Peripheral Vision, by Cathy Smith, and Stuff in the Basement, by James Schaap. Because they are my acquaintances, I want to say, "Hey, guys! I blog, too! Come read mine!" but while their blogs contain thoughtful, well-crafted essays and even complete works of fiction, mine contains "TMI" about my sinuses, sleep patterns, furniture, and food, with occasional remarks on the weather and a wealth of pictures of my flowers and my dog.

Browsing backwards to see if any of my posts are better than my recent ones (yes), I saw that in July, in an attempt to raise the level of my blogging, I made a quiz about Pride and Prejudice. That was a mild success, but then I forgot all about it and never did it again.



I'll have to make another quiz on a good topic. Meanwhile, I'll let my friends know that my blog has at least one interesting item, namely, the mention of their blogs.

And I'll take encouragement from Cathy's post Why Write?

This happens to me all the time. I decide on a topic. I mull it over. I scan my quotation file for that half-remembered gem teasing the edge of my consciousness. Then I get on my blogroll and read a post by someone who’s written on the same theme and arrived at the same conclusion. To top it off, the piece is so well-vinted, sparkling with poetic juice, that it seems rather pointless for me to even attempt my version.

Read the whole thing.