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My favorite book of all time, a nonfiction book about the internet entitled "Small Pieces Loosely Joined: A Unified Theory of the Web" (easily found on Amazon.com if you're interested) explains the nature of blogs.
For one, his theory is that whereas Warhol said "In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes" the author says that "on the internet, everyone is famous to 15 people" and to some extent there's an element of that in blogs.
But moreso than that, the internet is about creating and sharing yourself - as the entire internet is built out of the fabric woven out of human dreams and desires (for example, a web documents are in the end all ideas the person posting it wants to share, and links are traveled by a person's desire to hear/see that idea.)
So, blogs are not about expressing your inner thoughts, they're about choosing or outright inventing thoughts to create a persona - in hopes that someone else will find this persona's information meaningful.
The main thing I got out of the book is that the internet is basically mans rejection of the universe "God" created for us. We created the internet to be the ultimate playground for the human soul. It's a world of the comfort of places without the isolation and burden of space - it's geography and time are wholly built out of passion, where a crowd can consist of individuals, and where everyone's thoughts and opinions matter, no matter how stupid.
Ever since I acquired the verbal and mental ability to spew out recognizably cliched pseudo-philosophical garbage, there's been a pull to join the ranks of teenage Livejournalists and MySpace-aholics in informing the world of HOW AWESOMELY DARK AND DEEP I AM, only barely rescued by a decent enough grasp of how worthless such expression must be in light of how formulaic and commonplace it can be found to be with the most cursory of glances at TEH INTERWEB. This produces the predicament of having pressure to express that which I feel strongly about, but avoid at all costs the lowest-common-denominator mode of expression that's become the outlet of so many self-obsessed arrogant highschool misanthropes. This isn't to say that heartfelt and sincere expression of personal issues is inappropriate, nor that online distribution of one's thought should by nature of the medium invalidate their worth, but rather that a bell curve of the worth of expression measured against its exposure indicates that anything commonplace should be immediately suspect for falling short of its full potential, which is to say that an expression of my own thoughts, feelings, and experiences that so closely mimics that of the stereotypical angsty teenage blogger, whether deliberately or purely by coincidence, should by association with the standard be considered mediocre and as such a betrayal of the very effort that spurned its conception, one to stand out as a poignant manifestation of that which should be said, lest it, and some significant aspect of the whole of experience, not be appropriately appreciated.