You blog about not knowing what to blog, I guess.
I know it's counterintuitive, but I'm not a journal-keeper. I know a lot of writers are. And I tried. I really did, especially as a young teenager in love for the first time. Only problem is, I'd forget to, y'know, actually write in my diary. So I'd remember the diary every two weeks or so, and I'd industriously try to piece together all the enormously important things Phillip and I had done together (which, believe me, wasn't anything to write about even at 15) and put them down on paper. But because I was a tad anal retentive, even then, I couldn't bear the concept of a day without an entry. So in between the one or two significant events that might happen in a week, there were five or six days when all I wrote was the date and "Nothing Happened." In fact, I got to where I just abbreviated it. There'd be page after page of "NH" in my poor diary. Then, Phillip graduated, we never really got together, and the diary got dumped in a box somewhere and finally disappeared altogether.
I tried journaling later, in my late twenties. That didn't even get as far as the poor diary.
So, I guess this blog is sort of all the journal I have in me. Of course, I'm not going to write the kind of stuff on a public venue that I might have written in a private journal. But who am I kidding? I never wrote it in a private journal, either.