Blogging Isn’t Dead. It Just Stopped Caring About Being Cool.

On choosing permanence over platforms

Retro Tech, Eternal Words – Rendered by the author in DALL-E

So, a little confession for today. I still blog (duh). And not on some influencer-approved “personal brand” site, either. On Blogger, of all places (obviously). That’s right, the same platform I first embraced back in the early 2000s, when everyone had a sidebar full of blogroll links and comments sections that felt like coffee shops.

And by now, I’ve lost track of how many people have told me blogging is dead over the years. It died when Facebook took over. It died when Twitter (sorry, X) became the default megaphone. It died again when TikTok convinced the world that everything worth saying can (and should) be boiled down to 30 seconds of frantic hand gestures and on-screen captions.

But here’s the thing. Blogging didn’t actually die. It just stopped being trendy. And honestly? There's a part of me that likes it better this way.

The Myth of the Dead Blog

Seriously, we’ve been pronouncing blogging dead for over a decade now, like we're living in the digital answer to Groundhog Day. Every few years, a think piece pops up declaring blogs obsolete and on their way out for good. 

Yet, while the crowd stampedes toward the Next Big Thing, the millions of blogs out there just… keep going. They're quieter, sure. But they're definitely still there, like a stubborn patch of wildflowers growing through the cracks in the sidewalk.

I imagine it's because for some of us, blogging was never about being the hot new thing. It was about having a place to put our words where they could potentially be discovered by others. It still is.

Why I Still Blog

So why am I still at it? And why bother maintaining a Blogger blog in 2025 when I also have Substack, Medium, DeviantArt, and a small parade of social media accounts? Because my blog is mine.

• Ownership: No algorithms burying my words because I didn’t post at “optimal engagement time.” No sudden policy change making my archive disappear overnight. My blog is my house, and I still feel like I hold the keys here, even all these years later.

• Depth: Blogs lend themselves perfectly to long-form content. The internet has trained us to scroll, skim, and compulsively swipe like our lives depend on it. And while that's fine for what it is, there’s still a lot of magic in sitting with a thousand words that build a thought slowly, piece by piece.

• Archive: I've had my Blogger blog for a long time, so by now, it's like a time capsule of my own growth. When I look back, I don’t just see posts. I see different versions of myself, some of which are no longer really with me. Awkward, searching, evolving, alive.

• Freedom: No niches, no content calendars (at least not rigid ones). I can write about tarot one day, AI art the next, then throw in a story about my garden gnomes just because I feel like it. The blog absorbs it all without complaint or consequence.

In a world where everything feels more and more like it's designed solely to be curated and optimized, that freedom feels almost decadent. It's honestly a comfort to me, and I need more of that in my content creation life.

What Blogging Gives Me That Social Doesn't

If you've been following me around the internet for very long, then you already know I’m active on other platforms – Substack, Instagram, and even LinkedIn when I remember to dust it off. They each have their special place in my online ecosystem. But none of them feel like home the way my blog does.

Social media is quick-hit dopamine – likes, comments, shares. But it’s also fleeting. Posts get swallowed up by feeds and buried under algorithms within hours at times. Blink and it’s gone. Possibly forever.

But blogs are different. They’re steady. They're permanent. And if someone stumbles onto my blog, they don’t usually just glance and vanish, either. They're prone to wandering around a little before they leave. They click. They read. They find posts from years ago and leave comments like little time travelers. So, this blog isn't about volume or attention for me. It’s about the depth of connection when it does come.

And maybe that’s the real reason I keep at it. Blogs attract the kind of reader who wants to stay a while and is actually interested in understanding what makes me tick as a person.

Blogging as a Form of Resistance

There’s also a dash of my trademark rebellion in my choice to keep on blogging, especially today. Blogging feels like planting my flag in the ground and saying, "I don’t buy the idea that shorter, faster, and shallower is the only way forward."

We live in a culture obsessed with speed. With “content.” With disposable everything and plenty of it. Blogging is the polar opposite of disposable. It’s slow, personal, and lasting. And it fervently resists the idea that the only words worth writing are those with viral potential.

In that sense, blogging is almost spiritual for me. It’s showing up, putting down words, tending the archive. It’s my way of saying, "I exist. My words matter. And I’m not going to vanish just because the trend cycles shift."

So, Why Am I Blogging in 2025?

Because it’s not dead. Because it never really was. Because even though the crowds may have moved on, I don’t measure the worth of my words by whether they’re fashionable, and I really never have. I blog because it’s my thing. Because it lets me breathe. Because it gives me a record of where I’ve been and a place to daydream freely about where I’m going.

So yes, here I am in 2025, still showing up on Blogger. It may not be sleek. It may not be hip. But it’s my own personal little corner of the internet, and I like it that way. 

So, if you’re here, whether you’ve been reading me for years or you just tripped over this post by accident, welcome. Pull up a chair. Blogging is far from dead in my little world. It’s right here, alive and well.