This morning I’m reflecting on what makes a life interesting.

There’s a reason for this.

Recently, Dianne Rinehart, my editor-in-chief at Metro, asked if I’d write a blog to go with my column.

Now when an editor-in-chief asks, “Would you like to …” I snap to and say, “How high?” Usually leading them to ask, “What do you mean? What’s that got to do with filing your column on time?” And then I say, “Um … it’s like you asked me to jump and I …” And they say, “I knew hiring a humour writer was trouble. I wonder if that woman who writes about telling your fortune by reading bird droppings is still available.” Something like that.

Anyway, this week I begin to blog. I’m willing to blog. I’m wanting to blog. I’m waiting to blog. The only thing keeping me from blogging is having no idea what the heck to blog about.

Not being a huge blog reader myself, I asked blog-savvy friends what one blogs about. Apparently, blogging is a chance to share all those ordinary everyday thoughts and experiences that no one will sit and listen to us talk about, but are happy to spend hours reading online.

One friend suggested, “Anything can be interesting. What did you do this morning?”

Me: I spent 45 minutes trying to unglue teeth whitening strips from the paper backing, ending up having to pull 50 half unstuck strips out of my bangs. Is that a blog?

Her: That’s a Twitter. You have to work up to that.

Another friend said, “Blog about how you’re different. That’s what’s interesting.”

Well, I’m a divorced, remarried lesbian living in a straight neighbourhood. One of my daughters is transsexual. I’m training to become a minister in a faith that traditionally would like to see my sort tarred and feathered. I work at an inner city parish where “success” means you’re still alive. And at a mental health institute, where I have to be armed with a personal safety device in order to visit my clients. But frankly, in my world, this is all old news.

And is it our differences that make our lives interesting? The most interesting thing my life experience has taught me is that we’re really all the same. We all want to be loved. We all need hope. We all hope to be listened to.

I don’t know if that’s a blog or a Twitter. I do believe it’s the truth.

– Anne Hines is an author and humour writer. She has written three novels and one collection of nonfiction humour.

Latest From ...