Saturday, January 15, 2005

And then there were blogs

I am closing in on a month of blogging. Apparently, I am smitten. I have all but abandoned my friends and foes on the couple of forums I visited regularly. Instead of clever back and forth barbs, verbal missiles, and misery loves company posts, I now prefer to sit and create on my own.

Blogging is a natural draw for me. I am a frustrated diarist who used to fill spiral notebooks with insight and opinion. Not being fastidious by nature, my scrawl was difficult to read. And forget editing. Write it once. Done. What came out, came out.

The physical part of writing began to wear on me. I started my computer journals. Posted to irregularly and un-dependently saved on the hard disk. These jopurnals were easier to read, edit, and it was kinda cool to change the font, color and size. But this method of archiving my inner workings was still cumbersome and unwieldy. Especially if I wanted to find a particular thought or point to expand or just dwell on. I spent half my time reading through 400 days of prose and poem before I found the point. Oftentimes, by the time I found the point, the reason I was looking for it, lost in the diversions of rehashing old thoughts. And when, a major malfunction occurred in the bowels of my PC, all the effort and thought I had saved, gone. I have lost some shit a couple of times this way.

And then there were blogs. A perfect medium for me. More reliable, because someone more reliable than I set them up. The duty of safe storage, again, in the hands of folks more dependable than I. And like the Internet they exist in, the possiblities of personal expression are endless.

At this point, my relationship with the blog is a sort of "Young Love". A strong infatuation that continues in my thoughts when I am not behind the keyboard. I spend more time considering what to post next time, than I probably should. I am sure the newness will wear off a bit and my daily multi-posts will drop to a few per week or less. As long as I don't feel obligated, this romance can last. I know, I know. Typical male. Afraid to commit.

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