Practicing for a New Goal?

I've never been a consistent blogger. I have a friend who is, and I enjoy keeping up with her life through the readings. She uses her blog as a memory of life events, too - referencing things she had forgotten about, but which were recorded in the archives. I do sometimes write in a paper journal. That is more my speed - journaling in a sketch book where I can add doodles and charts to illustrate my life. There were many years when I wrote regularly. But those journals were supposed to be private. I perceived them as a judgment free dumping ground for all the thoughts and feelings I could never share. Over time I realized that anything I wrote was subject to being read by another, sometimes maliciously, but usually just out of curiosity. Not everyone understands the sacred privacy of such things. When I was a child I had those diaries with the tiny lock, which could be picked by any 5-year old with a paperclip. I perceived those as private too, until my mother started punishing me for that which had not been named. In this way, blogging has stumped me. I enjoy reading others' blogs, but fear my writing might be offensive, boring, or horribly illuminating to the infinite flaws in my character. Yet I continue to cycle round to the idea that I would enjoy and benefit from a regular writing routine. Am I just a narcissist? An exhibitionist? One who likes to see myself talk? And here we have it, the undeniable character trait of a bullying internal critic. Yep. Check. I admire the way some people express themselves in, what seems like, entire transparency. I would like to be more like them. I hide myself too much. I'm not so bad. I don't maim, murder, or rape. There's an ingrained privacy default for me that is hard to kick. It seems clear here that this is a fear of judgment. So, I'm considering challenging myself to at least a weekly post, for some predetermined chunk of time - maybe 6 months, maybe 3.